


But You're The Green In Me (You Sleep Like A Kid)

by DeathjunkE



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Because I can, F/M, Gen, Genderfuck, I need to finish this, I wanted to write 12 K of fluff —dont judge me, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, M/M, Other, Pregnant Loki, References to Supernatural, Sheriff Stilinski Knows, Sheriff Stilinski is a Good Dad, Stiles is a demigod, gender fluid Loki, teenwolf_xoverbb 2013
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2017-12-10 09:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathjunkE/pseuds/DeathjunkE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Papa Stilinski used to be a hunter, but after a hunt gone incredibly wrong he goes to a bar to drink himself sane and rethink his stance on monsters and life in general. That’s when he unknowingly meets the love of his life. Things happen, time passes and they and their little boy are a family with a new life. Both Sheriff and Loki know that they won’t be a forever type thing. Loki will outlive him if he’s not called home first but still they make the most of it while they can. </p><p>In the aftermath of Loki’s departure, the Stilinskis have to pull themselves together and figure out life without Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Campbell and Stilinski

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first TW fic so please bare with me.  
> Many thanks to my awesome beta-reader JonJo who put up with my crazy and abuse of the English language, and my wonderful artist Aragorn who makes the most perfect banners <3  
> check out Aragorn's banner and fanmix [here](http://the-fatal-flaw.livejournal.com/9244.html)! leave some love <3
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://www.2shared.com/file/46yAJTwy/The_Green_In_Me.html)  
>   
> 

Despite being born of the species himself, Loki found the Jotun to be a detestable race. They are barbaric, they are ugly and they are monstrous. There are, of course, exceptions —as there are to any rule— but they are few and far between.

The Jotun do not believe themselves in the gods that Midgard legends speak of. They have their own gods that they worship and pay tribute to. Tribute is a strange thing for the Jotun. It can be something as small as burning the horn of a ram on the altar or leaving the dwarven children of their kind to die. A Tribute, an offering, a plea for forgiveness of whatever sin made the gods punish them with such weak and puny offspring.

Loki knows now that he had been such an offering. Laufey had left him to die at the temple because he was a runt, too small to be a proper frost giant. That was the day Odin found him, the last days of The Great War. Loki expects he had been a poor offering, just as he had been a poor son. Loki fell short at a great many things but he was also good at several things too. Illusions, shifting his shape as he wished, magic, planning for battle and perhaps most important of all being a parent. 

When Angrboda gave birth to children that looked nothing like Loki or herself, she called them abominations and carried all three to the temple to cast them away. Loki carried all three from the temple in a large basket and brought them back to Asgard. In his suite of chambers he raised his children, Jormungand, Fenrir and Hel, away from the prying eyes of other nobles. They slept in his bed, played with the toys he had once played with as a child, learned from the books he read them and the things he showed them. They played in the private garden that was attached directly to his sun room.

Loki and the children lived in their own insular world. Only a single servant, Sigyn had ever entered the chambers to clean, collect laundry and to bring food.

Jormungandr was clever and loved to explore everything. No nook or cranny was safe from him and any new toy or book was investigated thoroughly. Jormungandr’s curiosity was a point of pride to Loki, his child was so like himself. He flickered between serpent and humanoid of his own will, using whatever form was most convenient at that time. Though the moment water touched his skin he was a serpent once more. 

Fenris was proud, wild, witty and wicked. As a pup he chased the shadows across the chamber, liked to tussle with Hel and sniff out trouble in any way he could. He was armed with a wickedly sharp tongue and much sharper, more numerous teeth. Fenris shed his wolf skin from time to time and walk on two legs like The Aesir and Jotun, but he preferred the shape he was born in the great gray wolf with glowing red eyes.

Hel was the child Loki worried for most. She was sweet, feminine, always so angry and believed fiercely in justice. She was gorgeous, every inch of her was beautiful, her long dark hair, her fine features and pink complexion and even her waist where her skin turned to scabs and bruises fetid and black and appearing diseased. Loki knew if others set eyes on her they would be cruel and not see her for the beauty she was and it pained him.

Loki made his appearances at the grand feasts and some other occasions, enough to keep his presence in the castle and stave off suspicion of his activities lest the nobles began to inquire about his self imposed exile. Things passed smoothly for seventy years. Jormungandr, grew ever larger, Fenrir grew fierce and restless, and Hel’s anger at being unable to leave the rooms that she had spent her entire life in burned hotter.

When Jormungandr could no longer fit himself into one room Loki sat his children down and told them; “I am having a house built for you Svartálfaheim. I will be gone for a month to oversee the construction and for the elves to help me find a portal to take you three through.”

The next morning Loki bid his children farewell and left for the realm of the elves. The house built was as large as a castle, with sprawling grounds and a lake large enough for Jormundangr to bask in, but not grow too large (for all he was a serpent, he grew like a fish the more space he had the larger he would become).

Loki left on his journey and upon his return came home to empty chambers. He searched the gardens, he searched the kitchens before he raced down to the royal auditorium and asked Odin what he’d done with his children.

“Those monsters are not your children.”

“They are! They’ve not even reached a century! Father be reasonable, be merciful!”

“They are not Aesir! They do not even look like the Jotun!” Odin said plainly, unwilling to concede the point. “Besides, you are little more than a child yourself! What are you to do with children, bastard children out of wedlock at that.”

“The same that you do.” Loki spat enraged.

The court rumbled, some laughed, some made their usual discontented noises at the rudeness of the young prince. 

“It does not matter now. Those beasts were the beasts of prophecy— the coming of Ragnarok. I have taken care of it and we shall speak no more on the subject.”

It was later that Loki had forced the information from Tyr, Jormungandr had been thrown into the ocean, Hel forced into the chaos that was Helheim and Fenrir had been dragged to a quarry, tricked and bound in unbreakable string with a sword through his muzzle.

(-)

During his mourning Loki hid himself in Iðunn’s orchard. She knew he was there but said nothing of him to anyone else. She gave him a flagon of her mulled cider and left him to his sorrows. He stayed there for many days and many nights until Thor found him beneath one of the apple trees.  
“Brother...” Thor came closer hesitantly and sat on the ground beside him.

“What do you want Thor?”

“Why did you not tell me of your children? I had no idea that you had given birth again...”

“I didn’t. I kept to the bed of a Giantess. She birthed them, hated them upon sight. I loved them, so I took them.” 

“Loki, why did you hide your children?”

“Because I know that the Aesir look down on and fear anything that is different.” Loki spat with vehemence, his eyes flickering from green to red in his anger. “If you fight with magic as opposed to brute force, you’re a coward. If you slip skins they treat you as if you are nothing but a lie yourself. But if you are useful, they will tolerate you. Sleipnir, my first born son, is Odin’s finest battle steed, and no one questions it.”

“Sleipnir, is most talented. The fastest of any steed—”

“He’s not a steed! He was born with eight legs and he has the blood of a horse but he is not! He has a conscious mind and I go and speak to him but no one else does. They think him a stupid beast.” Loki shoved his hands into his hair and pulled at it roughly, trying to keep himself grounded with a bit of pain. The suffering of his children was painful for him to think of, let alone bear witness to. Worst of all there was nothing, truly nothing he could do about it, “They put bits in his mouth, a bridle on his head and fasten a saddle to his back. When he retaliates they hit him with crops and whips. When I retaliate they treat him worse, and make him pull a plow! Was it too much for me to hope that some of my children might be safe from such treatment?”

“Oh, Brother...” Thor wrapped himself about Loki, pulling him into a fierce and warm embrace. “We shall go together to see Sleipnir. You will tell me a suitable gift to bring my nephew.”

(-)

Sigyn continued to be the only servant allowed into Loki’s chambers. She went about her duties quietly with a bowed head and a somber mood. She was folding up linens when a pale blue shift tumbled to the floor. She reached for it with trembling hands, but Loki snatched it from the floor first.

“Get rid of this.” Loki ordered, shoving the thing at her as if it had burned him.

“What do you want me to do with it?”

“Burn it, shred it I do not care.”

“Surely you do not want me to burn it?” Sigyn smiled softly, as she thought of the girl that loved to dress in pale colors and have her hair plaited into intricate styles to show off to her father. She truly was a beautiful girl. Her soul more so than her half dead body. “This was Hel’s favorite dress, why not take it to her?” 

“Because what am I to tell my daughter? That while she is trapped in Helheim, away from her family, away from everything she knew, I can do nothing for her except bring her a stupid dress?” The words were bitter and grating and sadly enough, true. Odin had bound Hel to Helheim as much as Gleipnir bound Fenris.

Sigyn simply nodded, and tucked the dress under her arm before she left.

(-)

It had taken faithful service, many attempted seductions, a thousand years for Loki to come to Sigyn’s bed. When Loki did he brought her a golden ring, one of Iðunn’s apples. Sigyn waited dressed in lace and a smile.

When she whispered to him that she was filled with child —children— a double yolk she had said. Loki bribed a mage to create a safe place where his new family could not be seen by magic eyes and quietly packed Sigyn’s things and sent her to Svartalfheim wanting to see her and their offspring secure and comfortable.

Loki dared not visit. The Norns spoke of these children as well and it was safer that neither the council nor the Allfather know where they were hidden.

(-)

They met in a bar of all places.

He’d come from a hunt that had made him feel sick and wrong. It made him second guess every shot he’d ever made and everything his family had ever taught him. 

They had had a baby, a little thing that just like it’s parents shed it’s skin in a grotesque way to appear as someone else. Their eyes flashed in the camera and their eyes widened with fear when they saw his silver knife. He had entered their home, and threatened their lives and would have killed them both if it wasn't for the baby that started screaming from the next room. 

The woman had begged him, honest to God begged him not to kill her baby and he put the knife down. He was the real monster here not the shifters. Sure they weren’t human— they changed appearances like underwear but there hadn’t been any deaths in this town, not any that could be attributed to them. They were trying to build a family, live peacefully and here he was, the all too real monster that had come to slay them.

“I won’t— I’m so, so very sorry.” He choked out, his eyes burning and heart pounding in his ears. “My God, what am I doing? I’m sorry, so sorry.” He stumbled backwards until he felt the door against his back and he dashed through it, to his car and far, far away from that sleepy little town.

Three towns and five hours later he sat at a bar looking deep into his glass as if the SoCo would have all the answers for him. 

“You know, staring at it won’t fill the cup. Get the man another drink please.” The voice was smooth, steady and quiet and he couldn’t help but to turn.

The voice belonged to a tall pale man with shoulder length black hair. The man was dressed sharply, gun metal gray slacks and waistcoat, a jade green button up shirt with a gold tie and a heavy gold watch. He quirked an eyebrow and motioned to the three empty tumblers between them on the counter, “Bad day?” 

“You could say that...”

“There’s a lesson to be learned even in the worst experiences... So it may not be totally horrible.”

“I learned, alright.” It came out as a bitter laugh, “You’re taught that there are monsters out to get you. You’re taught to strike them down before they strike out at you. But in the end you’re the monster.”

The man’s mouth tightened up and he picked up his own drink, Disaronno on the rocks. “Very astute. A Monster is in the eye of the beholder, it’s a fluid concept.”

“I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure I... We are the monsters in this tale.”

“Who is this _‘We’_ you’re speaking of?”

“My family, the Campbells. We’re the monsters in this scenario.”

“You don’t seem all that horrible to me,” The man in green quirked his lips into a poor facsimile of a smile and extended his hand. “I’m Loki. Loki Stilinski. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The conversation was stop and go but the drinks flowed free and easy and then Loki was following Campbell down the road back to his rented motel room. 

The room was dingy and smelled like cheap perfume and sex, but neither one of them were bothered. They were too wrapped up in each other to notice; lips following lips, the tugging of clothing and the almost-laughter that flowed between them on unsteady breaths. They were engaged in the carnal and that was all that mattered.

(-)

They had spent four days in the room together, barely leaving for more than a bite to eat.

Campbell watched. His brown eyes riveted with fascination as he watched Loki bask in a beam of sunlight that shone on the end of the bed. Loki’s jade green eyes were half lidded in pleasure as the heat illuminated his skin. The dirt brown wallpaper and the aimlessly floating dust motes didn’t detract from the ethereal sight. 

“I need a change,” Loki muttered.

“Don’t we all? I’m barely 25 and already I’ve got a ‘mid life’ crisis happening.”

“Not that kind of change, but, yes I could use a change of that type as well.” The light danced across Loki’s skin making him appear to be pale blue with fierce red eyes for just a moment before he shimmered brilliantly —like looking out over a field just after you’ve stared at the sun— and settled into a completely different shape.

“Being one thing... It’s just so boring.” Loki said from the other side of the bed, looking every bit as dangerous and sexy as she had as a man. The change in Loki’s body had been amazing to watch. He’d gone from the wiry, lean muscled, flat-angled planes of a man to the gently curved form of a woman. As a woman Loki’s chest was ample but not overly large, barely a full C cup, her ass was rounded perfectly and accented by wide hips and thick muscular thighs. Loki’s hair had become thicker and lengthened considerably, sweeping across her back. 

“You’re not a shifter... they shed their skin completely.”

“I am... of a sort. I’m a shape changer. It is always me, and always my appearance. I am just able to manipulate my… not form, I still look like me no matter how I change... perhaps biology? I don’t know. I could always do it. Magic came naturally to me as a child.”

Campbell reached forward and wrapped that long dark hair in his fist and tugged roughly at his companion, drawing her closer, greeting her with a smirking kiss once she had been pulled into his lap.

“I don’t really care how you do it, I’m just glad you did.”

“And here I thought you humans were sticklers about gender.”

“Others might be. I’m not.”

“So I see,” Loki purred and worked to turn around so she could straddle her hunter. She enjoyed the way he was drawn to her; how his lips seemed to be magnetized to her skin and his hands weren’t content to remain on her waist. One reached up, trailing along her spine into the dark hair where it curled around the thick locks and gripped good and hard while the other trailed down and gripped firmly at her thighs hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises.

(-)

Loki stood naked in front of the full length mirror hung on the bathroom door. It wasn’t the first time that she had taken on the form of an Aesir female, but it was the first time she’d stopped to consider her appearance. She was tall, willowy and slender, nothing would change that. Her skin usually so pale, tinted a healthy pink. The slope of her breasts was gentle and they were not overly large, each breast could fit comfortably into her lover’s palms. Her stomach wasn’t the flat plane it had been as a man, there was some meat there now, that smoothed the way and made the swell of her hips more natural and gave a thickness to her thighs that they had lacked before. Loki’s features were still the same, sharp eyes, fine bone structure and the like, but still it was so different.

She breathed in deeply and let her eyes slide closed. Changing was simple, easy as thinking. All she had to do was think of herself as she had always been, a lithe young man, trickster and Prince of Asgard. The magic began its familiar journey from that place deep inside of his chest and crept outward before it halted and fizzled out. 

“Strange...” Loki muttered before peering at the mirror once more and feeling out her magic. As she tried to guide it through her body to spark the change it fizzled and fell flat. She huffed and dragged a hand through her hair, lips pursed and eyes fixed on her body in the mirror. Magic was a fickle thing. It was an exchange; your energy and ability to channel it for control over the world around you. There were rules to magic; your body had to be in peak condition to wield it, there could be no illness, no life threatening injuries to drain your body’s energy and you couldn’t take the energy from other living things...

“Fuck.”

And just like that, everything slid into place. Loki had lost access to his shape changing abilities when she had been pregnant with Sleipnir as well. She had stayed a horse for eleven months, the duration of the pregnancy and birth. 

This wouldn’t end well. There was no way that this would end well. Sleipnir had been taken from him and pressed into servitude to Odin. Angerboda’s brood had been trapped and banished in the harshest manner. Narvi and Vali were in hiding on Svartalfheim with Sigyn, a price on their heads as they hid behind layers and layers of elf magic to keep the from Heimdal and the Allfather’s eyes.

Loki’s hands trembled as they drifted towards her stomach. The child had only just been conceived but all too soon she would show and then what? There was no way Loki could return to Asgard bearing a child, it would not ever end well. Ridding himself of the baby wasn’t an option he could live with either.  
“What are you doing just standing there?” 

Loki didn’t turn but watched her lover in the mirror. “I can’t change back”. 

“I thought you were a shape shifter? How can you not change?” His brow wrinkled in confusion and his lovely brown eyes roamed her body with concern instead of lust.

“All squares are rectangles but rectangles aren't always squares.” Loki rolled her eyes and drifted back towards the bed. “I’m not a shape shifter, I can shift shapes. It’s something I was always able to do. ” It was clear from the look on his face that the hunter didn’t quite understand yet. “I’m not human, however, I’m not what you think of a shape shifter. I’ve always been me, I know what I look like. I’m just gifted in a way that allows me to shift shapes because my magical ability leans towards adaptation…”

“Oh. I understand.” 

“Good, that’s good”. Loki stretched out besideher lover and moved closer to him, basking in the warmth of his body and his presence. They hadn’t known each other for long, —barely more than two weeks in fact— but still she had grown attached to the man who had learned that monsters aren't the ones who are different, but those who persecute them for those differences. She found him attractive, his lively brown eyes, broad back, big hands and scarred skin. What drew Loki to him the most was the way Campbell was so open. Loki was the lie smith, the silver tongue, master of words and even so he valued honesty and openness. Probably more than most because if anyone knew how easy it was to lie it was Loki Odinson. 

“I can’t change.”

“Okay, is this like a burn out or something? Can we do something to fix it?”

“Yes. There are things I could do. Potions I could drink.”

“So why don't you?”

“Because, I would welcome a baby.”

“I would welcome a new start, a new family.”

(-)

They got married in the courthouse of a small town out in the middle of nowhere Mississippi. After they signed all the papers and said I do they ate dinner at a teahouse on the outskirts of town as Mr. and Mrs. Stilinski. In Vegas they had their honeymoon. The Stilinskis stayed in one of the nicer hotels and frequented the casinos. Loki swept the card tables clean until she was asked to leave $750,000 and two hijacked burlesque shows later.

They traveled across miles and miles and miles of highway in the old blue CJ -7. The Jeep wasn’t the newest or most attractive car on the road, but it was solid and reliable and never needed more than an oil change. Mr. Stilinski sang along to the radio and stopped at every tourist trap, Mrs. Stilinski took up knitting to keep her hands busy during the ride.

With four months until the baby was due, the Stilinskis settled down in the small off-the-radar town of Beacon Hills. The newly named Mr. Stilinski often wandered through the house they’d bought as if he was lost. He said that a real house seemed so large after living in motels and out of the jeep for so long. Loki on the other hand thought it was small, but after growing up in the Asgardian Palace anything short of South Coast Plaza would seem so.

The house was roomy, with three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, a full living room and kitchen, a laundry room and basement as well as an attached garage. The first night they spent in their new home they christened every room but the nursery with lewd and filthy sex.

(-)

“Please, Loki, please. Just let me take you to the hospital. Just this once. I’ll even turn on the siren so we can run all the red lights.”

Loki grinned despite the pain of her contractions. Her husband was a newly made deputy who couldn’t wait to flare the sirens on his cruiser. “I’ve done this before. Trust me, all we need is a midwife.”

“We don’t have a midwife!”

“Call Mrs. Tatum from across the street. She’s a certified Midwife and a retired nurse.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Really. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t prepare accordingly for this?” Loki snorted out a laugh as her husband scrambled out the door to fetch their neighbor.

(-)

“You know I can’t pronounce that, right?” The pen hovered over the birth-certificate and other forms that Deputy Stilinski had been given to fill out. “How is that even spelled?”

“Don’t be absurd!” Loki rolled her eyes and snatched the pen from her husband’s hand. “Geirvaldr is a perfectly good name. It’s one of my father’s many names. It should keep this little one safe.” She cooed at the child in the crook of her arm.

“How is a name going to keep him safe?”

“I’m not human. In fact I’m not of this world, love.” Loki reached out and took her husbands hand holding it with steady force, a simple action that demand all of his attention, “Trust me when I tell you that this name will keep him safe.”

“What is he in danger from?” There was a stiffness to the man that Loki had never seen before. His jaw clenched tight his shoulders drawn back and he looked around the room as if he, a mere mortal man, could fight off Gods and Giants.

“Prophecy, my father, any enemy that finds out I have a child here on this planet. He needs all the protection he can get and he will have it.” Loki pressed her lips to her infant son’s forehead and closed her eyes for a moment. “I won’t let anyone take him from us. He will not end up trapped in the ocean, chained up in some valley or half dead. I will destroy everything if I have to.”

Loki’s green eyes flashed up to her husband’s and she watched intently as the pieces started to fall into place for him. His broad strong hands trembled as he reached out to her. Those strong rough hands framed her face and Loki looked intently into the brown eyes of the only mortal man she adored. 

“You’re a God aren’t you?”

“To your people I am... or rather was. I hear we are regarded as myths these days.”

“You’re still a God. I’ve worshipped you since the moment I set eyes on you.”

“You are a disgustingly sentimental creature!” Loki scoffed, her cheeks stained pink and her eyes fixed decidedly on the sleeping Geirvaldr’s tiny bow shaped pink lips.


	2. Parents

Deputy Stilinski came home to the sound of thunderous footsteps, high babyish giggles and deeper laughter echoing through the house. It was a pleasant experience, not one he had ever imagined having but one he couldn't imagine life without these days. He took his time when putting away his coat, locking up his gun and removing the trappings of his job from his person.

"I've got you now you wicked little thing!" Came Loki's voice, triumphant and breathy followed by their two-year-old's high wild laughter. "You're Matka's little bilgesnipe, aren’t you! When you come of age I'll have the dwarves make you a helm like mine, then you'll look the part too!"

"Matka what's snipe?" Geirvaldr asked. 

"Bilgesnipe? Bilgesnipe are animals from Matka's homeland. They're big, like elephant big. They've got gold skin, it's scaly like a snake."

"Snape?" the inquiry was followed by a long hiss, clearly that trip to the zoo made an impression.

"Yes like a snake. And they've got antlers just like on Matka's helm but much, much larger. They're so strong that they can knock down trees and break boulders if they're mad enough. They're one of Matka's favorite animals."

"What your fav-it?"

That child was clever and curious, always wanting to know more about everything. He listened in on the conversation, loving to observe the loves of his life, his perfect little family together. Stilinski smiled and fished a fork out of the utensil drawer; while his family was busy he'd sample what was in the pots.

"I like wolves and serpents best!" Loki said with false enthusiasm that the child was too young to understand and turned Stilinski's stomach to ice.

(-)

They moved from stall to stall at their own pace. The sweet crisp smell of fragrant fall produce scented the air, the sun shining and the cool breeze keeping the temperature pleasant. It was a Tuesday morning so it was mostly other stay at home parents and the retirees who were out shopping.

“Matka, look!”

Loki obliged, his eyes following in the direction the toddler was pointing. Of course the little boy managed to find the one cart with handmade hard candies, toffee, taffy, caramel dipped apples and brown paper bags of kettle corn. 

“There’s something to the simple lives that mortals lead.” Loki smiled and allowed his child to lead him to the cart piled high with sweets and snacks. It was amazing how quickly the child had grown. Geirvaldr had gone from a squishy pink bundle of drool, shit and sweet smiles to a chubby two year old with a mop of dark hair, ruddy cheeks, sweet lips and perpetually sticky fingers. Geirvaldr was sweet and charismatic, he chattered constantly, skipped everywhere as if walking at a normal pace would strike him dead, and asked question after question —always wanting to know more, understand more. Loki couldn’t have been prouder.

“We’ll only get a little toffee. You’ve got to take a nap when we get home.”

“I don’t want a nap!” The little boy said, positively outraged by the very idea of being forced to sleep.

Loki barely kept the grin off of his face as he replied, “Doesn’t change the fact that you’ll be having one.”

“Tha’s not fair, Matka! You don’t nap!” 

“I do not do a lot of things, my love.”

(-)

It was family day at Beacon Park and Loki frowned at the mirror flickering between male and female, trying to figure out which gender fit the outfit better. Loki’s female filled out the oversized green sweater in a way that made her curves obvious, while the male form filled out the black slacks differently and made him appear taller.

“Which do you like best?” Loki enquired, voice fluctuating as his genders shifted.

“I like you best.” Deputy Stilinski offered as he peered around the bathroom door. 

“You’re sweet. Unhelpful, but very sweet.” Loki grumbled and decided to settle somewhere between the genders. The breasts and more rounded features of his female form, while retaining the musculature and genitals of a man. Let the citizens of Beacon Hills be confused, it’s not like any of them would be getting into his pants.

(-)

“Are you sure you want to go?” Loki asked crouching down until he was eye to eye with her five year old. “You don’t have to, you know. I will gladly stay home and teach you everything you need.”

“Loki, leave the boy alone. Val, do you want to go to school?” Loki scowled at her interfering husband as he knelt beside her and Geirvaldr. Not only did he constantly call their son some bastardized version of his noble name but he was the one who had put these ideas of school in the boy’s head. 

“I want to!” The little boy chirruped, “I want to go on trips, and play, and read books, and make friends and...” He just kept taking hands, gesturing wildly as he extolled the virtues of kindergarten, his brown eyes large and filled with life. Loki watched her brown eyed boys grin at each other as they went back and forth talking about things like crayons, jungle gyms and teachers. 

While they were talking excitedly Loki stood up so that she could go make bagged lunches for the both of them. Her men would need a good filling lunch for their full days.

(-)

At 2:00pm on the nose Loki pulled up to Beacon Hills Elementary in her hand-me-down battered blue Jeep. With a full 30 minutes to go until she could go in and get her son, she turned off the engine opened the doors and lounged in the front seat looking from the clock on the dashboard to the building’s red doors. Time seemed to crawl.

“First day?”

Loki started out of her reverie to see a young woman with dark eyes, a long loose braid over her shoulder and a broad smile looking at her.

“Uhm, yes...”

“Same here! Drives you nuts all this waiting, doesn’t it!” The woman stuck out her hand and Loki was suddenly reminded of a very young Fenrir, all large eyes and sweetness. Her face was still rounded with youth and she couldn’t have been more than 22 years old. “I’m Melissa McCall!”

“Claudia Stilinski.”

“I’m just waiting for the kindergarten class to let out. Scott, my son, started just this morning. I’ve been a wreck since dropping him off. But they haven’t called saying he’s had an asthma attack so he’s probably just fine. Or at least that’s what Chase says.”

“I am sure he’ll be fine.” Loki said softly, touching the woman’s arm lightly. Loki understood perfectly, she hadn’t been able to do anything she planned for today, between checking the clock, and talking herself down from calling the school, or her husband. “We’re so used to having them underfoot that we don’t know what to do when they aren’t there.”

Melissa laughed lightly and fixed the strap of her purse. She opened her mouth to say something when the school bell rang loud and shrill and the sound of pounding feet rumbled from the building. Children flooded out of the school and into the courtyard, corralled and wrangled by teachers, paraprofessionals and aides. 

“Oh, I think that group is for us!” Melissa chirruped and walked briskly towards the group of small children who were lining up by the fence.

Loki had only made it halfway to the little cluster of children when she was nearly bowled over by the five year old who had practically flown over to her and latched onto her legs. Geirvaldr pressed his face into her legs and held on for dear life, refusing to be moved. “My child, what is wrong?”

“I don’t want to go to school anymore, Matka. I wanna stay with you from now on!”

“Come now, you were so excited this morning.”

“I don’t like school”

“Why? You were so excited this morning to be here, what happened?”

“They laughed at me...”

“Did you perhaps jape?”

“No." He snapped with all the ferocity a wronged duve year old could muster, "I introduced myself. They said my name was funny. And the teacher couldn’t say it.”

“That is because she’s an idiot.” Loki crooned threading her fingers through her darling boy’s hair while shooting scathing looks at the teacher that had led the kindergarten class outside. 

“I told them to call me Val, but Val’s a girl’s name! There’s a girl called Valerie, and people call her Val! They kept calling me a girl and I’m not!” 

“That is a silly thing for them to say. You are not a girl at all! They probably cannot see well enough to tell the difference! Like bats! Yes?” For all the good it did, Loki might as well have not said a word.

In the end it was Melissa’s boy who fixed it. Scott was small and pale, his lips were always just barely a shade from blue and he looked so much like his mother with thick dark curly hair and puppyish eyes that Loki couldn’t bring herself to shoo him away.

“We can finish playing tomorrow right?” The little boy took in a shallow breath that made Loki’s chest ache for him. 

“I’m not coming tomorrow. I don’t like school.”

“But we never finished playing. And I don’t think anyone else will play with me... I can’t play tag or red rover or anything the other kids play. You’re the only one who knows how shoots and ladders goes.”

“I don’t want to come back.” 

“Why not?”

“They’ll laugh at me. My name’s hard to say and strange.” 

“So pick a new one.”

“It doesn’t work like that!”

“Superman did it. Batman did it. Why can’t you?”

Geirvaldr's snub nose wrinkled and his large eyes narrowed as he considered this. “Well... I mean… if Batman did it...”

(-)

Loki doesn’t much care for the moniker ‘Stiles’ but Gierveldr refuses to acknowledge anything else from anyone else, Loki being the only exception. The boy’s own father called him Stiles these days too.

But it’s alright. Names hold tremendous amounts of power and no one should have power over his son like that.

(-)

Deputy Stilinski felt like a new man these days —hell, he was a new man. He had shed the burden of being a hunter, a profession he had been raised to, for the badge of the Beacon Hills County Sheriff’s Department. He’d still protected people but in a different way. He was no longer a Campbell, forsaking that name for his new one, Stilinski. He was no longer a drifter; he had a home, a wife —sometimes, a husband— and a lovely son. Every day he woke up in this new world where he didn’t deal with ghouls, spirits and monsters. Instead he dealt with scraped knees, snotty noses, delinquent teens and a snarky wonderful man —sometimes, woman— at his side and in his bed.

This morning, much to his disappointment, he woke to an empty bed. With a grunt he pushed back the covers and went to search out Loki. First he checked the bathrooms; both the en suite and Stiles’ bathroom were empty. Stiles’ room empty and so Mr. Stilinski made his way down stairs. 

There in the low light of the living room lay Loki, sprawled across the sofa, their little son asleep on his chest and covered with the soft multi colored blanket Loki had knitted during their road trip across the country. 

“Is something wrong? Why are you sitting here alone in the dark?”

“Nothing is wrong. I’m just savoring the moment.”

“Ah!” Without another word the brown haired man settled himself on the floor beside the sofa. “Mind if I savor it with you?”

“Not at all, husband mine.” Loki turned and smiled and petted their child’s shaggy hair. They sat in silence for nearly an hour before Loki broke the comfortable stillness.

“I love you dearly.”

“I know.”

“It didn’t start out that way. I was only in that bar so that I could escape for a few days. But you were interesting, and then you were good in bed, and finally you knocked me up.” Loki laughed low and deep, afraid to wake the little boy sleeping on his chest. “I fell in love with you on the road, just before we stopped in Massachusetts. I want to savor every moment I have with you and Geirvaldr. My life is and will be very, very, very long. I am 8,000 years old and still very young to my people. 

“There will come a time —hopefully no time soon— that I will be called home. And know that for the sake of our son, I will not refuse my father’s wishes. If I am not called home then I will live, and watch you age until I walk you to the gates of Helheimr. Where you will meet my daughter, she is the queen of the dead.” 

“So my lifespan, our human lifespans..." The words were thick in his mouth and the taste of them unpleasant, "They are barely more than a blink to you?”

“Please do not think that I love you any less. If anything it makes me more appreciative of you. It is just my poor luck that the man best suited for me is mortal. And Geirvaldr is only half mortal so he will likely live long and well.

“I do not wish to be parted from you but... there may just be no hope for it.”

“If we ever do part I’ll wait for you.” Stilinski took his spouse’s hand in his own and held onto it tightly, enjoying the feeling of Loki's presence, his skin and his cold dry hands.

“What does it say about me that I can’t bear to tell you not to?”

He smiled fondly and Loki could not look away, ensnared by this man who adored him. “That you know just how stubborn I can be.”

(-)

Loki smiled as he sifted through his closet. Gender was something that felt all too constraining. Loki remembered being with Angrboda and Sigyn. Both women had made it clear that with them he was a man; to be seen and expected to fit into the world as such. His current husband didn't care in the least. Stilinski loved all of Loki, male, female, other. There were aspects of each body he enjoyed and Loki couldn't tell if he had a preference or not.

So tonight he took his time and collected the best attributes from all his genders and blended them seamlessly into his appearance. Once his body was done, he drew out black leggings, a very ornate green tunic with gold threaded embroidery on the borders of the sleeves and on the collar, along with butter soft leather boots. Then came the jewelry; bangles and rings until he jingled with every step. Loki’s androgyny was flawless. 

“Matka...”

Loki turned and crouched down with a smile as he always did when greeting his son. “Yes, my love.”

“You and Papa are dressed up... Where are you going?” The child moved closer to his mother tangling his chubby little fingers in his hair. Stiles need for touch was just as large as his need for knowledge and Loki fed both of those things enthusiastically. Loki pulled his son close to him so that Stiles as standing between his knees and half leaning on his mother.

“We are going out to celebrate the fact that we got married, and had such a wonderful son!” 

“I can go too?”

“Don’t you want to have a sleepover with Scott at Miss Melissa’s? I hear she’s making curly fries and mega tasty cheese burgers for you and Scott!” Loki said in a hushed whisper, as if it was a secret he wasn’t supposed to spoil.

Stiles looked up at his mother with a frown, his big brown eyes and chubby cheeks making it far too adorable to take seriously. “Are you gonna get burgers and fries?”

“Nope! Papa and I are going out for some eggplant parmigiana and salad.”

“Ick!” The frown turned to the cutest little face of complete and utter disgust, “I’ll stay at Scott's!”

“Want me to bring home any eggplant for you?” Loki asked, smirking to keep the laughter at bay as he tickled the boy suddenly.

“NO WAY!” Stiles shrieked, dodging his mother’s tickling fingers and darting out of the room.

“What was that all about?” 

Loki looked up over his shoulder at his husband who had just emerged from the bathroom and was wrestling with his tie. Loki smiled, genuine and happy, “Your son doesn’t care too much for his vegetables.”

“Who can blame him?” 

Loki didn’t even try to contain his laughter when he saw the mulish look on the other man’s face.


	3. A day in the life of ”Stiles” G. Stilinski

(-)

Stiles grinned and jammed his hand back into the little brown bag. There were warheads, sour patch kids, bubble tape, sour apple rings, melody pops, three packs of fun dip, two ring pops and laffy taffy.

“You want the red fun dip, or the blue one?” Stiles asked as he sifted through the bag.

“I like blue.” Scott dragged his toes in the sand to slow down the swing, “Your dad let you buy all that”

Stiles smirked and pulled his blow pop from between his lips with an obnoxious pop. “Nope. Please, my parents don’t let me eat any candy that wasn’t made at home. And Matka doesn’t make candy often.”

“So then how’d you get so much candy? No one in our class had a birthday except for Isaac, and his mom brought cupcakes, not candy.”

Stiles waited until the swing was at its highest point and jumped off landing in the the sand with a laugh before darting off onto the playground. “Watch!” 

Scott jogged behind him, wheezing slightly as he caught up with his friend, who was standing in a group with other kids who were munching on their sweets. Stiles waved up to one of the boys and looked at the sour power straws he had in his hand.

“Bet your sour power you can’t guess my first name.”

“What do I get if I get it right?”

Stiles thrust his bag full of candy forward wiggling it just out of reach of the other boys, grinning wide at their bulging eyes. “All of my candy!”

“How do I know you won’t lie and say it’s not your name if I guess right?”

“This is Scott, he’s my best friend he knows my name and he’ll tell you if I’m lying. Won’t you Scott?”

“Yeah, I will. I promise.” He said looking more than a little confused.

“You’re on! Give me a hint, there’s a lot of names...”

“Cool you get three chances! My name starts with a G.”

“George?”

“Not likely.”

“Geoffrey”

“No.”

“...Gil?”

“You know, you’ve come the closest out of everyone I ever played with but nope!”

“So what’s your name?”

“If I told you that we couldn’t play again! Just call me Stiles.”

“That doesn’t even start with a G.”

“Stiles is short for Stilinski— that’s my last name not my first. Thank you!” he chirped and scrambled trying to catch the pack of sour straws the other kid threw at him.

Scott turned to his best friend, his eyes huge and disbelieving. “No way...”

“Ick. Grape— you want it Scotty?”

“Scott! Stiles! It’s time to go!” Came the voice from across the playground.

“Coming!” They called back and scrambled across the playground once more.

(-)

Melissa had just closed the door behind him when Loki felt it - Baldur's presence was like a stone upon his chest. It was no great surge of power or the light and storm of the bi-frost. Instead it was the liveliness of the grass, the trees, the birds and every other living thing upon the earth; they thrived, desperate to show their best colors and most beautiful appearances. 

"Baldur." Loki acknowledged the young god who stood barely a yard in front of him. 

Baldur was noticeably young; his face was rounded and ruddy. His brown hair fell well past his shoulders to a complexly disrespectful length. His eyes were bright even in the dimness of a winter's night. Baldur was clad in his usual gray and white clothes, caring nothing of blending in with the people of Midgard, "You've been away from Asgard for too long. Father wants you home."

"What is it now?" He grumbled impatiently, it had been a good few years since he had left Asgard, but not enough that they should come looking for him yet. "Is there some trouble that they want me to fix?"

"You are a Prince of Asgard, and have responsibilities to the people and our father just as we do." 

"The day Thor takes up a responsibility is the day I eat a bilgesnipe." Loki rolled his shoulders and clenched his jaw. He knew this day would come, he had just wished it hadn’t come so soon. He wanted more time with his human family, but if he was going to keep them safe that was not to be. Loki scoffed and shrugged off his mortal appearance, readying himself to return. "Lead on brother." 

Baldur brushed his fingers against a apple tree that was flowering prettily for him, and smiled before he turned to lead the way to where Hiemdal would open the Bifrost. 

Loki created a doppelganger behind his brother's back and sent it off to his home. Geirvaldr would have one last sweet memory of his mother, if it was the last thing Loki did.

(-)

It wasn’t really Loki. 

He could tell when it walked through the door. It shimmered in an odd way and it didn’t shift and slicker through genders the way Loki did when it kissed him in greeting. Deputy Stilinski closed his eyes tightly and took a deep slow breath. 

“Is it time already?”

“It is.”

“Loki’s already gone hasn’t he?”

“Yes. It was safer not to lead Baldur here. If the Allfather knows about this place, our family...”

“I understand.”

“Thank you,” the Loki look alike stood on its toes and pressed a chase kiss to the sheriff’s lips. “Geirvaldr was promised a bedtime story, and a good night kiss upon Loki’s return. I’d hate to disappoint.” The Doppelganger gave a brittle smile, it’s time was limited and it had a task to perform —a heart rending and bittersweet task.

“It is time for little bilgesnipe to be abed, is it not!” The look-a-like announced as it strode into their son’s bedroom. “What book shall we read tonight? Do you want to read a book or do you want to hear one of my stories instead?”

“I always want to hear your stories Matka.”

“That’s because you are simply the most perfect son!”

Stilinski’s stomach tensed, churned and roiled as he listened to his family from the next room. There would be no more nights like this after today. There would be no more questionable stories about the pantheon of Norse gods, no more ‘Matka’s little bilgesnipe, no more Loki to support, to kiss, to hold or to be teased by. He had always known that there would come a time that Loki would have to leave, but he had hoped it wouldn't have come so soon.

"I want one of your stories, Matka." 

"Alright then. An ash, I know there stands. Yggdrasill is its name. A tall tree, showered with shining loam, from there comes the dews that drop in the valleys. It stands forever green over Uror's well* (taken from Völuspá,)." Loki's double told the tale of the world tree, he kept speaking even when Stiles was sound asleep. Now the tale was becoming unclear as the doppelganger lapsed from English to his mother tongue as the power allotted to it faded and it struggled to stay.

Stilinski reached up into his closet and brought down the bottle of good whiskey he kept for just this occasion. He had brought it the night they got married with the intention of saving it for their tenth year anniversary; however this seemed like a more appropriate time. He tipped two fingers of whiskey into each of the cut crystal tumblers and carried them into the next room.

"He will come back if he can," The doppelganger said, accepting the tumbler pushed into his hand, while never taking its eye off of the sleeping boy. "When he can."

"I'll wait. We'll have a drink then too."

(-)

Jean, the secretary at the station smiled softly at the two and waved at Stiles, who tucked his face into his father's side, shying away. It was a hard time for the Stilinski's, everyone could see that. They both had dark rings around their eyes, their normally infectious good humor was nowhere to be seen and both father and son looked as if a spring breeze would knock them over.

Deputy Stilinski herded his son to his desk and sat the boy down with his workbooks, a package of animal crackers and a box of juice. Stiles shoved the food to the side and flopped onto the workbook staring listlessly into nothing.

"Hey Stiles, it's nice to see you again." Mike, one of the other deputies, offered the child a smile as he approached the desk. When the boy didn't acknowledge him Mike shrugged and turned to his colleague, "Help me pull some files from the store room?"

"Stay here okay?" Stilinski murmured to Stiles, tugging at a piece of the boy's hair. Stiles huffed and swatted his hand away. 

"How're you doing man?" Mike asked when they were finally alone in the file storage room. "I'm so sorry. Tell you the truth, I would have never thought she'd be the type to run out on you and the kid."

"She didn't run out. We knew she'd have to go sooner or later."

"Was she not a citizen? You were married that should have taken care of everything." Mike rubbed his palms on his pants, unused to conversations like this, "My cousin, he's a lawyer, got a boy your age too. He'd probably take you case if it's an immigration thing."

"Thank you Mike, but no. It's nothing like that at all. Her father needed her at home and she had to go." Stilinski pulled down the files he needed and left the room before the conversation could go any farther.

(-)

"I'm so sorry, honey", Melissa stretched over the table and laid a hand on Stilinski's forearm, "I don’t know what to say… She dropped off Scott, just like she always does and that was it. I had no idea she was going to go."

"We knew she'd have to go, that she would be called home by her father. We just hoped it wouldn't be until Stiles was around 14 or 15. When he was old enough to understand. It's hard for him now… I don’t know if he thinks mommy left him or what…"

"Why did she leave? Why not take you two with her."

"It wasn't safe."

"Oh. I'm sorry. You're so tired, are you sure you don’t want me to take Stiles with me so you can get some rest. Scott should be able to distract him, for a little while at least."

"No. Thank you Melissa but I don’t think that would work out well. Stiles has been getting panic attacks when I'm not close by. Then there's the accidents, and the crying fits… I can’t. Thank you, but no."

"You've been coping with his all this time and you look dead on your feet. You need to rest, you need a break."

"Things are a lot better than they were. The first two days Stiles was okay, he asked where she was and if we could call her every few hours, but he was okay. After that it deteriorated into tantrums, crying jags and begging me to go get Loki. And I wish I could have, I really do. The last week he's asked me to go get her, when is she coming home… He stopped asking yesterday and now he's just there. He doesn't speak, starts crying out of nowhere, he's terrified I'll leave too, panic attacks at least twice a day and he's having accidents so frequently that's I've had to replace his underpants with goodnights."

"Have you found a therapist yet?"

"Yes. He's got an appointment in two days."

"For yourself also right?"

"I don’t need one."

"You do, you've had four glasses of whiskey while I’ve been sitting here and as empty as that bottle is, I'm willing to bet it's not the first binge night you’ve had since Loki left."

"Melissa—"

"Don’t Melissa me. Get help now, before this turns into a problem you need a twelve step program for. Stiles has lost his mother already, are you really going to take his father from him too?"

(-)

At the farmer's market all of the stall owners wanted to give their condolences, ask how Stiles was fairing and make small talk about Loki. After the first 30 minutes of being stopped and approached by sympathetic strangers the Stilinski's packed themselves back into their jeep and drove to the nearest impersonal big name supermarket they could find.

Stiles held tight to the side of the cart, fingers chilled by the metal. It was so foreign getting food in a place like this, being inside a huge building as opposed to the open-air market. There were no stalls, no big wooden carts or crates filled with fruit and vegetables, no popping kettle filled with sweet corn and no familiar faces. In this place there were signs and boards everywhere, things were wrapped up in layer upon layer of plastic. The floors gleamed, the lighting was way too bright and clearly artificial, there were so many people around that he was starting to itch.

“Papa...”

“Yes Stiles?”

“Did you bring the list?”

“We’ll get the fruit and veggies first. Then the bread alright?” The deputy dug the half finished grocery list out of his jeans pocket and looked it over, “Stay beside me, okay? This place is big. I don’t want you to get lost.”

Stiles nodded and kept close, he didn't want to lose Papa either.

(-)

It was summer vacation and it was boring.

The days were hot, the nights were cold and Papa and Mrs. McCall worked _all_ day. Stiles flopped over onto the chair next to him and groaned, punching Scott in the leg for good measure. After all it was totally Scott's fault that Old Mrs. Marcs couldn’t watch them anymore. Scott went and turned blue and now the old woman was too frightened to stay with them in case of another emergency and they were being kept in the break room of the police department. 

"I told you you'd choke if you put that many marshmallows in your mouth at once."

"I said I was sorry." Scott offered with a shrug, "I wasn’t expecting to choke. It just happened." 

Stiles stuck his tongue out at his friend and returned to the screen of his Game Boy. He had almost finished off the Olivine city gym leader. 

"Son," Stiles turned his face up to see his father holding a box of crackers, three juice boxes and the hand of a little girl with red hair in a pale yellow dress. "We've got a guest, can you keep her company for a little while?" The deputy didn’t hang around for an answer, ducking out of the doorway instead.

"Hi, I'm Stiles."

The girl wrinkled her nose in confusion, "What's a Stiles?"

"I'm a Stiles." The Gameboy gave off an annoying alarm, letting the boy know that his pokémon was one hit from death. He flicked off the game boy, shoved it in his pocket and smiled at the girl. "That's my name."

"No it isn't." Scott bleated from his spot on the sofa, his nose buried in a comic.

"Oh really? Then what's my name Scott?

Scott frowned, his eyebrows drawing together in deep concentration while he chewed on his lower lip. "I… um…"

"Exactly!" Stiles said, smug as could be, before turning back to the girl he had been just talking to. "What's your name?"

"Lydia." She glanced at the door and heaved a sigh, as if she was already tired. "How long is this going to take?"

(-)

Stiles had always done well in school. Even after Loki's disappearance, grades had never an issue. Stiles was curious and always wanted to learn more. He was smart too, He caught onto things quickly, recognized connections almost instantly. When Stiles was in the mainstream classes he was often so bore that he read a head a or do extra problem sets. Then get restless and started to talk, play with and distract other students. When they moved him up to the gifted program the work ceased being a problem. Yes, he still went a head in the books, and read the most random books and articles, but his erratic behavior became more of a problem. 

Stiles couldn’t sit still to save his life and had a mouth that would not stop. He was always touching things he shouldn't be touching, failed to follow directions even if he understood them, couldn’t stay on one train of thought or more than a few moments before racing onto a new subject, unless it involved batman. 

The Deputy knew all of this. He had always just chalked it up to his son being a Demigod. Loki had mentioned the possibility of their son developing powers or strength, something that was a little more than human as he grew. Deputy Stilinski had always thought that this ridiculous excess of energy could jut be a factor of Stiles' genetics, but it wasn’t like he could say so without his son being snatched by CPS while he being carted off to the nearest mental health facility. And so he let the child psychologist and the teachers called it Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder.

Though they complained and griped, it wasn't as if Stiles was unmanageable. He didn't throw things, he wasn't violent and if he was rude it was because his mouth got away from him, not because he was actively being malicious. But they had a classroom full of children to deal with and it was unfair for Stiles to get all of their attention.

At home they kept to a schedule, there was a time for everything and an order for things to be done. Major tasks were broken down into parts and directions were precise and simple. Deputy Stilinski had signed Stiles up for junior lacrosse, tae kwon do and swimming lessons on top of making sure they went to the park for at least an hour every day in attempt to make sure Stiles burned off as much energy as he could. When Stiles got rowdy, all it really took to make him settle for a few minutes longer was a few reminders; What is it you're supposed to do to get my attention? Can you tell me what I asked you to do? We walk in stores —not run. If you run in the store you'll be holding my hand until we leave it.

The system worked well until Stiles' second year middle school when Stiles couldn’t focus on anything academic at all. It was like watching a train crash in slow motion as Stiles worked himself up about assignments that he had barley started. Things that should have been easy because he knew the answers, he knew just what to write but he just couldn’t sit and do them. 

Like any concerned parent Deputy Stilinski tried to come up with workable solutions. 

"I'll do my case paperwork and reports at home, we can sit and do them together." The Deputy said one day as stiles began working himself up over an essay. "That we can keep each other on task."

That worked for as long as it took stiles to look over at his father's case files and start putting together the connections that he saw almost immediately. It was like a puzzle, a game that he could pick through easily, a fact from this crime scene correlated with something a suspect or witness said or didn't say until there was one clear concise picture of what happened laid before them. And while Deputy Stilinski's closing rate went up 7%, Stiles' homework didn’t get done.

"What about timers? You work in 15 minute bursts take a ten minute break, come back and work for another 15 minutes." 

At first Stiles was diligent about setting his timers and trying to get his work done, but the ten minute breaks turned into hour breaks of video game playing, comic reading, or cleaning out the refrigerator (surprisingly enough) if his father wasn't there to herd him back to the kitchen table to do his work. 

 

They were a little more than halfway through the school year when Stiles brought up a solution of his own.

"What about the pills the doctor mentioned?" He blurted over his unfinished math homework. 

"What pills?"

"He said there are pills that can help me not be so…" Stiles flailed his arms a bit and made a weird sound halfway between a grunt and a squawk, "you know!" 

"No, I really do not know."

"The hamsters can run on wheels and not treadmills." Seeing the confounded look on his father's face Stiles too rethink that poorly phrased analogy, "They'll help me focus on things and not feel like I'm all over the place all the time."

"You want the meds?"

"Yeah. I don’t want to always feel like I'm never going to finish anything."

“Stiles." Deputy Stilinski dragged a palm over his face and tried to clear his mind for just a moment. He had argued with the doctor, the teachers and that damn therapist against medication for Stiles' 'ADHD'. It was like no matter where he turned someone was trying to shove a fix it pill down his id's throat and finally when they al backed ff it's Stiles who brings it up. "I understand what you're saying I really do. But son, I don’t like this. The idea that you would be dependent on something that can so easily be mishandled. The side effects alone are enough to scare me.” 

"I looked them up. It's nothing that bad."

"So chronic pain, paranoia, loss of appetite, insomnia, mood swings, UTIs, respiration problems, dizziness, depression, irregular heart activity and everything else in those pamphlets is really not that bad?" Stilinski leaned backed and gave his son a measured look. This was his boy, his only son and he'd be damned if he'd allow these very read very common things to hurt him.

"They're side effects they may not happen at all," Stiles reasoned. "And if they do I can stop taking the pills."

"I don’t like this, and I know it’s not what your mother would have wanted either." Loki had detested modern human medicine, claiming it did more damage to their bodies than the illnesses that they cured ever would.

“She’s long gone Dad and I need something... something. I'm so tired of not being able to stop, I want to have more than one friend. I don’t want to be 'the spaz' for the rest of my life." Stiles grabbed at his fathers arm pleading with all he had, his voice, his eyes his very touch. "Papa, please.”

The Deputy Stilinski tries not to hate himself as he dials up their doctor. Maybe this really is ADHD, and not an overflow of energy caused by Loki's otherworldly genes. If these pills will make life easier for Stiles then he'll get them, but at the first signs that something is off they're out of here.


	4. And it Goes

Stiles sat on Milo's counter as he watched him transform from a plain 20-year-old swimmer into a gorgeous painted diva. It was a long process, one that started with a shave and shower and ended with makeup and a finely styled wig. It was interesting to watch how layers and layers of perceived masculinity were pushed down beneath layers of clothes, cosmetics, mannerisms and makeup to create the woman he saw before him.

Milo (Millie, now that he had on the wig and makeup) was taking the time to diligently outline his eyes as he leaned over the sink into the mirror.

"Hey, Papito…" Stiles answered the term of endearment with a raised eyebrow and a hum. "You're awfully quiet over there. Is watching me get dressed that unnerving?"

"No. It's not unnerving at all."

"Liar. You haven't said two words the entire time. If you're uncomfortable with it you could have stayed in the living room. Some people don’t like the illusion stripped bare, they like me to be Millie or Milo…"

"I was thinking about my mom." It wasn't a smile, but rather a quirk of his lips. "Mom was genderfucked. Sometimes she was a woman and sometimes he was a man. I don’t think I really understood that most people are either male or female until I was like eight. It just simply never occurred to me and I don’t think it ever would have until the teasing started."

"Hm, that's why you're so cool with the girls and me. A few of them placed bets, said it was only a matter of time before you started asking us for makeup tips.

"Nah, I'm a guy through and through. I've never felt like anything else nor have I ever wanted to cross dress." Stiles remembers watching his mother sift through jewelry boxes for gold and emerald rings, bracelets and necklaces. She had two gold headdresses in the attic one with some bizarre horns and the other a simple coronet. She'd only wear the rings and necklaces when she was a woman. When she was a man then she tended to lean for a simple bangle or two. Most days Stiles tried his best not to think of his Matka. She had been cruel to let her husband and son love her so much, when she was only going to run off in the middle of the night with out a word, not even a goodbye. 

Millie teased her big brown curls to an acceptable volume. Leaned back from the mirror, pressed her lips together to even out the color, and blew a kiss at the er… reflection. "Gorgeous! What do you think? Ready to hit the Jungle?"

"Let's head out". Stiles shoved away the thoughts of his mother and focused on the here and now. She was dead to him, long dead for the last eight years. He slid off of the counter, forcing a grin and the bounce in his step.

(-)

Peter had what he needed, a location a plan and the means to execute it. Now he just had to tie up all those pesky loose ends, hopefully without killing anyone he didn’t absolutely have to. “Give me your keys.”

“Careful, she grinds in second.” Stiles warned as he tossed his keys through the air.

Peter almost felt bad when he crushed them out of shape, but it was better this way. The boy was human, he was more than that as well, yes, but he was mostly human. Stiles was soft, fleshy and breakable. Not good qualities in someone who would most likely try to get in your way, especially not when you may need them in the future. 

Stiles looked pale and wan, as if he were on the verge of passing out. His heart thundered loud and fast through all the other sounds of the night. Peter couldn't help to listen, to be drawn in and smoothed by that lovely sound.

“So you’re not going to kill me?" The boy asked.

“Don’t you understand yet? I’m not the bad guy here.”

“You turn into a giant monster with red eyes and fangs, and you’re not the bad guy here?”

“I like you Stiles," It was true, it was also a lie. Peter hadn't been around this whelp for more than a few hours and he was enamored, mystified— there was just something about this boy. He was gawky, and awkward and so powerful that Peter felt his very soul hum and resonate with him. "Since you helped me I’m going to give you something in return? Do you want the bite?”

“What?”

Peter Hale was a patient man, despite all the evidence to the contrary. He wasn’t good at waiting, but he was good at giving people the room they needed to be themselves, to talk. Stiles… he was clearly in need of some one to listen, in need of someone to care, to share his burden with, to strengthen him. He needed pack. The boy spoke all the time about this that and the next thing but rarely if at all, did he ever _say_ anything. Peter knew, he had watched the boy long enough to know, long enough that he knew that he had bitten the wrong child that night. This one, had limitless potential, he could be great.

“Do you want the bite? If it doesn’t kill you, and it could, you’ll become like us.”

“Like you?”

“Yes, a werewolf would you like me to draw you a picture? That first night in the woods I took Scott because I needed a new pack but it could have easily been you. You’d be every bit as powerful as him. No more standing by his side watching him become stronger, and quicker, more popular, watching him get the girl. You’d be equals, maybe more.” Peter took hold of Stiles' arm, reveling in the power he felt course through his veins. This one was meant to be pack. The boy had so much power, so much. Peter would give him strength through the bite, through pack. They would be unstoppable, a force of nature. If only Stiles would accept what was there for the taking, he just needed to reach out, accept the blessing that was the bite. “Yes or no?” 

“I don’t want to be like you!”

That was a lie. Peter heard it, he felt it, he felt it resonate right through his body.

“You know what I heard just now? Your heart beating slightly faster over the words ' _I don't want_ '. You may believe that you are telling me the truth but you are lying to yourself." He wouldn’t bite this one against his will, that was how rouge Omegas were made. People who didn’t want the gift and fought it every step of the way until they were no longer human but mindless beasts who hunted every full moon night, "Good-bye Stiles.”

(-)

It had been a particularly rough few weeks, so when Deputy West popped his head into Sheriff Stilinski’s office and asked if he wanted to join the others going off shift to celebrate Sergeant Carlo’s birthday at the bar of he’d said yes. It wasn’t like Stiles would be home anytime soon, his son had been carrying a bag of video games out the door when he’d left for Scott’s house.

“Hey Boss-Man! You came.” Carlo called cheerfully when the sheriff walked into the bar. The others echoed Carlo’s call with cheers of their own and the man just had to smile. 

“Yeah, well I gotta buy the birthday boy a drink.”

“Damn right you do!”

The drinks were strong, there were bacon cheddar fries and buffalo wings by the basket, the company was good, the game was on the big screen in the corner and for once Sheriff Stilinski wasn’t thinking about his absent spouse or worrying about his boy. Stiles was, by now, firmly engrossed in an FPS or MMORPG with his best friend and away from all the craziness that had been going on in Beacon Hills. 

“Here you go, Sheriff.” The waitress said as she put a refreshed tumbler of whiskey down by his wrist. 

“Thanks Janette, but I didn’t order this. I’m done for the night.”

“Oh don’t be like that this one’s on me.” She smiled and settled her hand on his forearm before she turned and asked the rest of the table if there was anything else they needed. When the blonde woman went back to the kitchens to place the order the deputies turned as one to their boss with sly smirks and teasing grins.

“What?”

“Oh man, he asks what?” Deputy Vazques snorted into his drink.

“‘What, I swear you’d think he was dead!” A jibe from June.

“Janette’s one fine looking woman.” Mike clapped a hand on the Sheriff’s shoulder, “Certainly she should get more than a ‘what’.”

Sure Janette was pretty enough, she was petite, round face, dark blonde hair and friendly gray brown eyes but she wasn’t Loki. The Sheriff frowned at his men, his brow drawn and his lips thin, “I’m married.” 

“Sheriff...” Mike’s words stumbled to a halt, realizing for the first time that he didn’t actually know what the sheriff’s name actually was. When they were in training together the instructors had just called him Stilinski. Mike put that thought on the back burner, resolving to ask one of his colleagues about the Sheriff's given name later.

“What Mike?”

“Come on, man. Be reasonable, you can’t stop living just because your wife... She’s long gone. Life is short you’ve got to be happy while you can.”

Stilinski smiled and stood up, pulling his coat off of the back off the chair and tossing three twenties into the middle of the table. “I’m heading back to the station. See if one of the guys leaving for patrol can drop me off at home.”

“Oh don’t be that way!” Mike scolded his long time friend in a whisper.

“I’m not being any way. I’m done drinking, Carlo’s good and drunk, and has eaten his weight in hot wings.”

“Will you at least chat with Janette? She’s interested you know.”

“She may be interested, but I’m not.” And really, he didn’t think he could make it any clearer, “I’m a married man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more to this story, and it's being written and edited now because I am a horrible person who sucks at deadlines during the school year. SO that said there will be a part 2 or just more added to this fic. 
> 
> just give me a few days. It's finals and i am running on fumes :)


	5. Once Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles chokes on his breath, hears his heartbeat in his ears, and feels his vision gray at the edges for just a moment, his body not sure what reaction to have. Stiles thinks it would almost be more merciful if he had passed out or something. Anything but this ‘you're back, I missed you, go away, I hate you, get the fuck away’ cycle that's flashing through his heart and mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so from here on in the chapters wont be beta-ed because i totally disappeared on my beta (for months) like a dick, and am more than vaguely ashamed. Also, I wanted to get out a chapter or part of a chapter, whatever.
> 
> Please bear with me.

**Part 5:**

It's barely a month before Stiles' 17th birthday when he thinks that he's going to die.

It's got nothing to do with werewolves, kanimas or the supernatural at all. But instead to do with the man who is sitting at his kitchen table holding hands with his father and sipping wine from one of the crystal wine flutes that sat in the china cabinet unused for the last 8 years. He doesn’t look any different from the last time Stiles saw him. He is still tall, lean and pale with fine features and inky black hair that fell about his shoulders.

Stiles chokes on his breath, hears his heartbeat in his ears, and feels his vision gray at the edges for just a moment, his body not sure what reaction to have. Stiles thinks it would almost be more merciful if he had passed out or something. Anything but this ‘you're back, I missed you, go away, I hate you, get the fuck away’ cycle that's flashing through his heart and mind. It's like his heart is going to stop and it hurts. In the seconds it takes for his parents to notice his presence Stiles pulls himself together, spins on his heel and leaves the way he came —he didn’t even slam the door on his way out.

This, this was just too much. 

Stiles took a shaky breath and got into his jeep and fished out his cell phone. Usually, he's more diligent about not making calls while he's driving, he reserves that for life or death situations because if one of the deputies ever pulled him over for unsafe driving then his dad would take his phone and his jeep. This wasn't life or death, but this was enough for him to not care.

"Scotty your mom at work tonight?" 

"Yeah. She went in like an hour ago. She's doing a double. I think she'll be home a little before school is out. Why?"

"Good, okay, I'm going to leave my car in your driveway, alright?"

"Yeah sure, you want to come up?" Scott offered, "I finally got Bioshock, I think you'll like it."

"Thanks, but I can't. Not tonight."

"Is everything alright man? You sound kind of off Stiles."

"I'm okay—"

"You're lying."

"You and your goddamn werewolf ears", Stiles grunted as he turned onto Scott's block,  
"I'm not- just… I'm not going anywhere that will get me hurt. I'm fine, Scott. "

"You're sure? I'll come with you if you want…"

"I'm sure, okay? I'm pulling in now. Thanks Scott." Stiles climbed out of his jeep and waved at Scott who was looking down from his bedroom window, before turning and jogging back up the way he’d come. He slowed down three blocks later and pulled out his phone.

"You've never called me before." Lydia's voice was somewhere between suspicious and curious. 

"Yeah, well…" Stiles scrubbed a hand over his hair and tried to think of a way to say what he wanted.

"Did something happen? Do you need my Molotov recipe?"

"Um no, I just… Can I…"

"What's wrong? You've usually got more to say than that."

"I need to stay somewhere my dad won’t find me for a few days. I can't go to Scott's and I don’t have any other friends, so can I stay in your guest room until this blows over."

"As long as you're okay with dogs. It's fine. It will be nice to have some company. Mom's never home these days anyway."

"Thank you."

"I'll order in some food. Do you like Greek?"

"Get what you like I'm not really hungry."

"Greek it is. How soon until you get here?"

"I'll be there in like twenty minutes. I'm walking."

"Just ring the bell when you get here." Without further ado Lydia hung up.

Stiles pulled his phone from his ear and dug his fingernail between the casing and body prying it up. The battery and the SIM card came next. He shoved all the pieces into his pocket and pulled up the hood of his sweat jacket. It was a good thing that he'd not worn the red one today, he would have stuck out like a sore thumb to anyone passing by.

 

"Right on time." Lydia chirruped as she pulled open her door and let him in. Stiles took off his sneakers and left them on the rack by the door. "You look wrecked. I got us food and some wine coolers, best I could do on such short notice. We'll go upstairs eat and pretend to watch a movie."

Lydia chivvied him along through the motions. She pulled his jacket off of him, snagged the bags of food off the kitchen counter and guided him upstairs. They bypassed the guestroom and ended up in Lydia's room on her way-too-inviting bed. And if that wasn’t a kick in the face he didn’t know what was? There he was in a place he would have killed to be at one point, but now he’d given up hope. That ship had sailed along with Jackson's crocodile skin. 

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing is really wrong—"

"Tell me what happened then."

"I came home and found my dad with…" 

"Oh, Stiles." Lydia sighed and took one of his overly large hands into her own small ones. This was something she knew about, had experience in, "He was bound to date some time or another. It's been years."

"If he was dating, I'd be relieved." He twisted his lips into some weird smirk-grimace hybrid and gave her a wry look unlike his usual adoration or kicked puppy disappointment. His eyes were darker, half lidded and sharp. "My mother… My mother never died."

"But you said—"

"But I didn't say. When people ask I say my mother is gone, they draw their own conclusions. It's a lot easier to let them think that than to tell them that she got tired of us and ran off."

"She's back?"

"She's sitting at our kitchen table drinking wine and smiling with my dad." Stiles laughed —a tired and hollow sound— and dragged his hands over his face as if to wipe away his frustration. "The worst part is that he still welcomes her. He forgave her the moment she walked out and stayed faithful. He wears his ring. He's always worn his ring. He takes it off to polish it every Sunday, and then puts it back on his finger. He tells the women who've given him their numbers, and the waitress who likes him down at the bar that he's married. He's never so much as looked at another man or woman."

"Wow." Lydia frowned; her and Jackson's on again off again relationship had been peppered with other lovers, that kind of solid faithfulness wasn't something she even thought possible. "That's… wow."

"Yeah, I know. With men like my father 'until death do us part' doesn’t do it justice. They're built so that there is only ever one person for them. 

“After she left we were both so fucked up. My dad couldn’t leave my sight without me having a panic attack, and I cannot tell you how many times in that first year I had seen my father drink Jack until he couldn't walk and barely see.

“I think monogamy is hereditary. I've got an uncle whose wife died in a fire years before I was even born. He packed up his sons and went nuts— or I thought he did at the time but with all the shit that's been happening … he might've been right about demons after all. I only saw him and his sons a few times when I was little. I remember he always wore his wedding ring, I don’t think he ever settled down either."

"Forget about your dad for just a second," Lydia prompts, "Tell me, would you forgive her or welcome her back after all this time?"

"Not without the best reason in the world. Lydia, _she left_. She read me a story, kissed me goodnight and left. She didn't even bother to say she was leaving or tell me what I did wrong…"

"Oh, Stiles. It wasn’t you. I couldn’t have been." Lydia, was beautiful. She was lovely, tough and hard like a diamond but she knew her lap made a good pillow and so she let Stiles rest his head there and petted his short hair delicately, and guided him into taking deep measured breaths so the panic wouldn’t creep up on him.

(-)

There were whispers all over the school. Stiles paid no mind to it. There was always gossip, who's on top, who's not, who's fucking whom. It was a whole lot of crap that he didn’t ever try to keep track of. Maybe it's about him and how he’d been seen this morning getting out of Lydia's car, people speculated far too much about things that do not concern them.

"Dude, a total MILF. Swear to God!" One guy crows delighted, as his friends circle around and listen to him extol the virtues of the poor woman they’ve decided to objectify today. "Chase, she was your type. Black hair, barely more than a handful up top, but she was tight with rockin' hips and ass."

Stiles rolled his eyes as he rifled through his locker in search of his chemistry textbook. It never sat well with him when guys talked like that. As if the lady they were talking about, and claimed to like or admire was nothing but meat instead of an actual person. They never thought that it was someone’s mother or sister or daughter.

“Hey! Stiles!”

Stiles leaned back to look past the crowd of jocks to Scott who was jogging up the hallway, his bag thumping against his back and not wheezing at all. For all Scott complained about being a werewolf, Stiles preferred his friend hairy and violent once a month than to have to be prepared to speed to the hospital because Scott was unable to breathe and turning blue.

“What the hell man? What did you do?”

“What do you mean what did I do?”

“Your dad was so pissed last night. Legit, I’ve never seen him that angry, ever.”

“I don’t see why. You covered for me right?”

“Um...”

“Um? Um! Seriously?”

“Stiles! He called and asked to speak to you. I told him you weren’t there. He asked where you were and I told him I didn’t know. He called my mom to find out if she knew and she said she didn’t so he came over and saw your car.”

“So he saw my car. That doesn’t mean you had to let him in, Scott!

“No, he’s the sheriff, and _that_ means I had to let him in.

“No, you didn’t. He didn’t have a warrant.”

“No. He had my mom on the phone and the spare key.”

“Okay, fair point.”

“But really... Stiles, where were you? What’s going on? You’ve never, like _never_ , never hide from your dad. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Look it’s alright. Nothing happened and I just... needed some time to myself.”

“He was terrified Stiles. He looked and sounded angry but I...” Scott’s voice lowered and he winced as the words slipped past his lips, "I’ve never smelled so much fear, he smelled terrified, so much fear...”

Stiles opened his mouth to blurt something, anything but was saved by the warning bell. "We’ve got Econ in like a minute and a half, we gotta move. We’ll talk later, okay?” 

“Alright. We’ll talk later.” Scott side eyed him, and Stiles inwardly cursed, this wasn’t something that Scott would allow himself to be distracted from.

(-)

As per usual Stiles used his first period econ class to catch up on his reading for history. Scott was sleeping with his eyes open and Finstock was attempting to give a round-about explanation of Marxism using pop culture references and screen caps from Toy Story 3. A perfectly normal start to a Wednesday when there was a knock on the classroom door.

Stiles kept his head down, trying to focus on the effects of the cold war while he still could. 

“Balinski!”

“Erm yeah, Coach?”

He needn’t have asked. As soon as Stiles looked up from the text book in his lap he saw her, standing there as if it hadn’t been eight years. While Stiles had caught a glimpse of Loki last night it was just that, a glimpse. That brief look had been difficult enough to deal with but this, this was honest to god torture. While the other night he had seen his mother, he had seen him as a man. This apparition, this impossibility before him...

This was his Matka, the woman who featured in so many of his memories. The one that remained stamped in his mind as the last he saw of his mother. She was wearing the same clothes that Stiles had seen her in that night eight years ago; an emerald green tunic with gold embroidery, black leggings and golden brown heeled boots that came up to her knees. There were easily a dozen gold bangles at her wrists and she wore her polished wedding ring as well. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders in thick waves and framed her perfectly pale, unblemished, unwrinkled face.

“Your mother, Balinski! Or can you just not see?” Finstock snapped before clicking the projector remote and zooming in on Woody and Buzz.

“Pack your bag, we won’t be coming back before this class is over.” Loki announced, keeping to her native tongue, “ _Quickly now, we’ve got to go._ ”

Stiles leaned back in his chair and replied in the same language, he was sure his words were a bit off. It had been so long since he’s spoken anything but English or high school Spanish. “Why should I go with you?”

There wasn’t an answer, just a chilly look and a quirked eyebrow. Stiles started shoving his things into his backpack before he could fully register what he was doing. He was being mind controlled by something that looked like his mom. This was all sorts of fucked up but, at least he wouldn’t have to explain last night to Scott.

(-)

Scott felt an uneasiness come over him as he watched Stiles shoving his things into his bag and sling it over his shoulder without another word. There was something not right about this. It made the base part of his brain anxious and scared. Scott clenched his fists and took a deep breath, not wanting to accidentally wolf-out in the middle of class.

He stared at the woman at the door until she and Stiles left. It looked like Mrs. Stilinski, it looked exactly as she had the day before she'd vanished. Scott remembered her green dress and dark hair. He remembered her holding his hand as she’d walked him home from the Stilinski house. Stiles had fallen asleep on Sheriff Stilinski's lap when they had been watching a movie and the sheriff had nodded off not too long after. 

Scott had been in the kitchen with Mrs. S finishing off his nebulizer treatment. After the treatment Mrs. S had walked him home and after that she was never seen again, until now at least. 

She had looked just the same as she had that day, not a single thing had changed. Not her face, hair or even her clothes. It wasn't natural...

Speaking of not natural, the way Stiles had just packed up and left wasn't right. Stiles was, and always had been, hard headed and willful. Getting him to do anything he didn't want do to was nearly impossible. And Scott knew from the look on Stiles’ face that he did not want to go with his mother.

When the bell rang, and Finstock had released them from one of his strange yet applicable speeches, Scott crammed his papers into his bag just before he bolted for the door. He didn’t give a second thought to how fast he was running or the shimmer of the shift that he felt under his skin until he was yanked back into an alcove.

Scott snarled at who ever it was who grabbed him and shrugged off the grip. When the hand snagged him again Scott turned and was surprised to see Isaac Leyhe standing there with his own eyes flashing gold. “What the fuck McCall? Where’s the fire?”

“Stiles…” Scott took a second to regain control, it was hard speaking around a mouth full of fangs. “Someone’s got Stiles.”

“What do you mean?” Isaac frowned as he leaned back on the wall. Yeah, strange things happened in Beacon Hills, but Stilinski getting picked up from school shouldn’t be of them. “Wasn’t that his mother that everyone’s been talking about?”

“His mother has been gone for years, and that couldn’t have been her. She looked exactly like she did the day she went missing. Stiles wouldn’t have just gone with her, he had to know something was up. Plus she did this weird thing… I felt it.”

“What did it feel like?” Isaac asked flicking open his cell phone.

“Like pressure in my head. But Stiles didn’t want to go… and then he just packed up and followed her like he wouldn’t have ever thought of doing anything else.” 

Isaac frowned, the very idea of Stilinski doing something he didn’t want to was entirely too foreign to seriously contemplate. “I’ll call Derrick and see if he can pick up a scent. From where ever he is and them we’ll track from the school, okay?”

“Thanks.” Scott took a deep breath relishing the feeling of air in his lungs; He was going to have to run soon, “Yeah, thanks.”

(-)

Scott crashed through the woods tracking the scent of stiles as far and fast as he could. He came to a halt and grunted in frustration before he tossed his head back and howled loud and echoing. The message was clear; he’d lost the trail. There were four answering roars and Scott turned abruptly and dashed towards the source of the nearest echoing howl.

Maybe Derek had picked up a trail.

(-)

The Quinjet’s radio squealed and fuzzed sharply, making it’s pilot flinch backwards sharply. Before he registered the fact that the incoming frequency was what was scrambling the radio.

“What the hell was that?” 

Clint looked over his shoulder then returned his gaze to the windshield, “Not a fucking clue, Stark is this shit malfunctioning?”

The other man shorted and threw himself down in the co-pilot’s chair slipping a pair of head phones on. “I’ve never been so insulted in my life! My machines don’t _malfunction_. There must be something out there putting out this ridiculous frequency.”

“Well what ever it is it’s stopped now.” Clint murmured as he eased the jet down into a clearing deep with in the wooded area they had been flying over. “Think it could be something Doom or Hydra related?”

“No, this missions is specifically a capture and detain for reindeer games. No Doom Bots no Neo-Nazis.” Tony stark pursed his lips as his fingers flew across the keyboard. This system, like every other he built had an interface with J.A.R.V.I.S. but it wasn’t something he wanted to reveal just yet, and so he was stuck tracing signals manually as Clint piloted the plane.

“Black Widow and Captain Rogers already hit ground half an hour ago.” Bruce chimed from the seats further back, his fingers gently pressing an earpiece closer to his face. “We’re waiting for them to tell the local L.E.O.s to keep out of our way and then give us the signal to mobilize.”

“Gotcha.” Clint confirmed as he opened the hatch and engaged the Quinjet’s stairs. “Pass me my kit.” Tony snagged the silver brief case next to his own silver one and passed it to Clint. Who popped the box open and started to assemble his bow and strapped his quiver to his back. 

“I wonder what brought my brother to a place such as this.” Thor questioned to the world at large as he looked around. There was nothing but trees as far as the eye could see except for what seemed to be a small town nestled between two larger hills. “Usually, Loki preferred places of great cultural and educational repute. This… this is nothing like that.”

“Yup. Gotta hand it to you there, Point Break. Beacon Hills, California. Seems like he only thing this own turns out is star lacrosse Players and a really, really high mortality rate of their law enforcement.” The man poked at his tablet, eyes skimming over the screens as he read the information, “According to S.H.E.I.L.D. This is where Loki was last sighted by their surveillance. Meaning either he was just passing through or there is something here that he wants.”

“Had Loki been to earth before the whole New York Fiasco?”

“Yes, many times. As had I myself. However I am unsure when the last time he came was. Loki has always had a bad habit of disappearing for years at a time.”

“And no one said anything?”

“Your mortal years are quite different on Asgard. We live for Eons and Eons and more so a year or ten is hardly noticeable, unless you were missed at one of the grand feasts or a diplomats visit.”

“Wonder what dirty secret he’s got stashed here then.” Tony pondered as he watched one of the black S.H.E.I.L.D. SUVs roll up to them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Part 6:**

 

Sheriff Stilinski was standing with the deputies looking over some photos from a wedding turned crime scene when his phone chirruped. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. 

310-738-5029  
 **G O T V A L. H E A D I N G O U T.  
S E E Y O U I N T H E M O R N I N G.**

The sheriff felt the knots in his stomach unwind, things were going to be alright. Stiles was safe, Loki would make sure of it. Loki had left to make sure Stiles was safe and now 8 years later he had returned for the very same reason. Loki was so much more than human— and he was very much capable of keeping their boy out of harms way… Or at least he would be so long as Stiles cooperated.

“Your boy, boss?” Deputy Crane asked, as she tacked up the newly faxed documents from Starbrough County. She had always liked Stiles. When he had been barely more than a little thing hiding behind the sheriff’s legs she would smile at him and sneak him goddamn Oreos.

“Yeah, he forgot his meds this morning so he’s not at his best. He’s on his way home—” 

“Excuse me.”

The sheriff turned at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. As soon as he set eyes on the two people that had walked into the station he knew who they were. The man was blonde with a kind face, stern jaw line and muscles that would have the ladies of the department trying to slip him the poor man their numbers. The Woman —she was like a predator— Beautiful but clearly dangerous. Her green eyes tracked every movement anyone made, analyzing everything; it was like being caught in the gaze of a cat eerie and nearly violating. And yet, you just couldn’t look away from her in her black bespoke business suit that emphasized ever curve and nuance of her body. 

Black Widow: Natasha Romanov, and Captain America: Steve Rogers of the Avengers. Loki had briefed him, and even if he hadn’t everyone knew about the invasion of New York. 

This was something they had expected. This was manageable, dangerous but manageable nonetheless. The sheriff shored up his reserves and smiled, and stepped closer to his visitors. “Hello there, I’m Sheriff Stilinski. How may I help you?”

“I am Agent Natasha Romanov of the Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate, and this is Captain Rogers.” She extended her hand politely.

“Yikes.” The sheriff took her proffered hand and shook it firmly, even as he felt his eyebrows rise. His mouth opened and he couldn’t even think to stop it from blurting, “Got an acronym for that?”

The red head smirked, or at least it looked like a smirk the way her lips just twitched up in the corner. “S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“I can’t say I’ve heard of that branch of the alphabet soup.”

“We handle sensitive cases at a global level.” Agent Romanov offered with a shrug, “It is imperative that we remain discrete. Do you have some where we can speak, a little more freely?” 

“Of course. My office is this way, please follow me.” The sheriff turned and led the way to his office. He kept his breathing steady, and face neutral. It was important not to give away anything. Even the slightest hint that he knew who or what they were there for would hinder the plan. And that was unacceptable.

The Sheriff held the door open for his guests and pushed them into the two plush chairs that were across from his desk before sitting in his own chair. “So, how may I help you two today?”

“Uhm, yes.” For the first time Captain Rogers opened his mouth, “Well we’ve been tracking a fugitive for about a week now, and there is reason to believe he is in the vicinity of Beacon Hills.”

“I see then, do you have a file? I can have my men do some canvassing and patrols if you think it would be helpful?” The sheriff offered in as sincere a voice as he could. 

“Thank you sheriff, but no. He is a war criminal and he retrieval must be handled…delicately. Things can go terribly wrong if he realizes that we are on to him and so this will be a strictly shield operation.”

“This is my town and my people. If there is a threat, one as dangerous as you say, I need to know what I’m up against.”

“Well yes, that’s understandable—“

“You have a child?” Agent Romanov stood from her chair and made her way to the two file cabinets that were home to a handful of picture frames, and a slew of Stiles’ academic awards and ribbons. 

“Um, yes.” The Sheriff answered, bewildered by the abrupt change in the conversation. “That’s my boy, the one with the buzz cut.” He watched the woman as she studied Stiles’ pictures and trophies with more diligence than anyone but himself ever had.

“He is a very handsome young man. And look at all of these awards. You must be proud.” She intoned with just the smallest touch of interest and the sheriff latched on to it knowing that Loki would need every minute he could wrench from the situation

“Yes. Yes I am. Stiles works hard, he gets into trouble of course—” the man shrugged and gave a small ‘what can you do’ smile, “but what teenage boy doesn’t?”

“He might be in more trouble soon.” She said as she studied the picture closest to her.

“Excuse me?” He asked, caught completely off guard by the statement, “I don’t see how he can be in any trouble right now. My son went home from school. He missed his morning meds and wasn’t feeling well.”

“Earlier, our tech team picked up your son and our target traveling together.” She tapped the glass of a frame and leaned out of the way so her partner could see, “See. Same boy.”

“Who is this target? Are you going to give me any details at all?”

“Meds?” Captain Rogers asked, surprisingly enough he really did sound as if he was genuinely concerned, “What kind of medication?” 

“Psychostimulant for ADHD. Your target?”

“Er… Hostile alien.”

Stilinski felt like such a dick doing it but anything to keep up the illusion; he raised his eyebrows and ‘Mmm-hmm’ed slowly. Captain Rogers flushed and let his eyes flash up towards the ceiling, he was clearly embarrassed and entirely exasperated with the whole thing.

“There are no pictures of your wife?” Agent Romanov asked as she looked across the top of his file cabinets where all the frames were lined up. 

“I’m sorry?” he blurted, thrown completely by the subject change.

“Your office. You have many, many pictures of your son. But you don’t have one picture of your wife up. You’ve got his trophies, and ribbons displayed— those just about always go to the caretaker. Your son lives with you, all of these pictures couldn’t have been taken by your wife, if any of them were then both you and your son would be in them. The shadow in this one… broad shoulders, same shape as yours. You still wear your wedding ring—, it’s polished and well taken care of so you’re married.”

“Yes. I’m still married. But Claudia doesn’t like photos, never has. We don’t even have a wedding photo.” There were six frames, before this morning it had been seven but with Loki being the subject of a manhunt that picture had to be moved and the cabinet tops dusted to hide any evidence of change.

“Hm.” Agent Romanov grunted and eyed him suspiciously. “нелепый. This does not make sense.”

“For sure. You come into my station saying that there is a dangerous fugitive in my town but you wont give me any details. Or let me organize my men. Why did you bother coming this way if you were going to go at it alone anyway?”

“He has a point Natasha,” Captain Rogers offered a small smile and a shrug, clearly meant as a ‘spies, what can you do’. 

“No, what he has is an anomaly. His wife isn’t even listed in his cellular phone. I checked.” She waved the sheriff’s phone in the air before she tossed it at him, nodding in approval when he snatched it out of the air and pocketed it in one smooth movement.

“You can’t just go around taking people’s things.”

“Why don’t you have her number in your phone? There are only six numbers on your speed dial and not a singe one of them is hers. 1) I.C.E. Giervaldr “Stiles” Stilinski, 2) Home Phone, 3)BHPD, 4)Scott Anthony McCall, 5)I.C.E. Melissa McCall and 6) BH Hospital Nurse’s Station.” 

“Look you’ve let me know about your operation, I’ll have my people stay out of your way. If you are done taking up my time and invading my privacy—”

“Wait a second” The captain was frowning as he looked between the sheriff and the pictures that were lined up on the filing cabinet, “what was that name? Natasha, what was the son’s name?”

The sheriff felt a cold hand of dread wrap around his insides. Stiles’ given name wasn’t a name you came across in passing. It was distinct and bewildering and something you’d remember even if you read or heard it once. “It’s a family name —an odd one for sure— but he goes by Stiles.”

“Natasha.” Steve prompted.

“Geirvaldr Stilinski.”

Captain Rogers smiled sadly and stood up from his seat, “Well then Mr. Stilinski, I think you’ll be coming back to base with us.”

“Steve, what?” Natasha’s face was blank to those who didn’t know her but Steve saw the confusion in the tightness around her eyes and the downward tilt of the corner of her mouth. She wanted him to explain and do it now.

“Giervaldr is one of the Odin Allfather’s names.”

“I did say it was a family name.” Stilinski shoved is hands in his pockets, he had to work fast before they took his phone. He pushed the touch screen up to expose the Qwerty keyboard to his fingers. It took only a few seconds to feel out the buttons he needed to send his message.

(-)

Stiles didn’t have even the slightest bit of control over his body. He tried to stop walking, to run, to drop, to stop moving — To do anything except trail behind this woman as calm and docile as a lamb. No matter how he railed against his body he just couldn’t make it do what he wanted. Usually it was only his mouth he lost control of, the rest of his body was better at doing what it was told.

“Get in the truck, strap in and get comfortable. It will be quite a drive, I do not want it to be unpleasant for you.” The person who was posing as his mother held the door of an unsurprisingly green 2005 Jeep Liberty with tinted windows open, taking Stiles’ backpack as he climbed in. 

Stiles slid in to the passenger’s seat without a single complaint. He secured his seatbelt, got comfortable with his back propped more against the door than the seat and his eyes fixed on the look-a-like, who at this moment in time was female. 

Stiles tried, with no success, to make his body move away when she cradled his face between her delicately boned hands and smiled soft and rueful. “You’ve grown so much, and I’ve missed nearly all of it.” She sighed; her eyes —so much like his own, the only difference was color— looked him over, studying him. It was eerie, creepy how very much like his mother this imposter was. “I am sorry, my love. If you would stop fighting me, I wouldn’t have to resort to this. Trust me though, it is for your own benefit.”

His captor slipped from female to male to female once more. Female when they were in the school, male as soon as they stepped out of the building and female again once they pulled over in the parking garage to switch cars. Stiles watched, he may have been trapped in his own body but he could still observe. And observe he did, because there was something not quite right about this whole thing. Yes, his mother had flipped genders when he was young but that was normal enough. 

In The Jungle there were a decent number of gender queer people. Some men that were born with out a penis and grew breast during puberty used binders to flatten their chest and brought packers and strap-ons the same way some women and drag queens brought ‘chicken cutlet’ bras and tucked. The androgynous ones who highlighted or created whatever features they felt right in that day. That was all normal, but Stiles couldn’t remember his mother’s changes, he had always thought that they were engineered by clothing. But now that he thought back, Matka’s changes seemed overly natural, so natural that it was unreal. Matka often wore the same clothes, male or female. There were no clothing adjustments or make up applications, only the seamless and unnoticeable Matka moving between the genders. The change was fluid and it wasn’t human.

Stiles watched the thing that might be his mother engage the child locks on the doors and windows; there was no way that he would be escaping during the car ride. Matka, now male once more, hopped into the driver’s side and fiddled with the mirrors and the seat until he was comfortable. There was a chime that sounded and he grunted, reaching back into the foot-well behind the passenger’s seat to drag a camel colored leather purse into his lap. A moment of fishing through the bag and he had a cell phone in his hand, it was nothing new or flashy, it was the same ancient blackberry electron that Stiles remembered his mother having all those years ago.

310-778-5321  
 **R U N N O W. T H E Y K N O W .**

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, _FUCK_!” Stiles felt whatever was holding him recede. Stiles’ didn’t move yet, instead he watched as the man in the driver’s seat slammed the phone against the steering wheel with excessive force, bending the steering wheel, cracking the dash board, and shattering the cell phone screen and sending some of the phone’s buttons flying. When the phone had crumpled and curved to the shape of the steering wheel, when he’d chucked it out of the window and threaded his fingers through his ink black hair closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. “Okay, okay… It’s okay. It will be fine. We can still do this. It’s okay.”

“So, um… Think I can leave now since whatever you were planning isn’t going to pan out?” Stiles asked hopefully. His voice shaking a bit, unnerved from that display of temper and power.

“Not a chance.” Loki jammed the key in the ignition, muttered his thanks to the universe that he had only caused cosmetic damage, and pulled out of the parking garage at a surprisingly sedate speed. 

“Well why not? Whatever the hell is going on has got nothing to do with me.”

“It has got everything to do with you. Trust me, it’s going to be fine.” 

Stiles quirked an eyebrow in disbelief, not only was that line delivered with a whole lot less conviction than one would hope but he couldn’t see what any of this crap had to do with him. “You know what? I think I would believe that more if you hadn’t kidnapped me, mojo-ed me so that I had to follow orders and weren’t wearing my Matka’s face.”

“I’m not wearing anything. Illusions are my strong suit, yes. But Val, it really is me.”

“Don’t call me that,” The boy snapped sharply, he’s been Stiles for years —almost no one called him Val these days— and this imposter had no right calling him by that name, “and no it’s not. I don’t know what the fuck you are but you aren’t my mother.”

“Geirvaldr—” She tried again.

“Stop it!” Stiles snapped, not wanting to hear the name he had left behind in his childhood. “Don’t call me that.”

“Stiles, then.” Came the grudging acknowledgement as the car rolled to a stop at a red light, “I’m me. I’ve always been me. I’m sorry I had to leave but there are things that I cannot control.”

“Don’t start that shit. You’re not even human, you haven’t changed at all from the last time I saw you.”

“I was never human. If you could ask your father he would tell you. He knows, he’s always known.” She huffed out a tired sigh and watched the road, her back held stiffly and shoulders tense. “I didn’t leave because I wanted to. That was the absolute last thing that I had ever wanted to do. I love your father, and I love you. It’s because I love you that I left. I was being called home.”

“Called home? So the house where your family was, that was just a hotel, a vacation spot? Right?”

“Midgard— I was raised on Aesir. My father called me back. I had to go, it was the only way to keep you safe.” Stiles watched those long thin fingers that he remembered all to well flex and curl, as if they were being restrained. They wanted to touch him to offer the comfort he reluctantly remember from yeas ago, And yet they know that right now their touch is not welcome— It may never be again. “I had to keep you safe. I left to keep you safe.”

“Bullshit. You left because you didn’t want to be saddled with a kid and a husband and okay, I get that but did you have to come back to fuck with Dad’s head. He’s… He’ll never get over it if you leave again. He never has and this time… it just might kill him.”

“Your father knows. We went into this eyes wide open. He knows things that you are not privy to…” Stiles watched the woman in the seat besides his own as the truck rattled up one of the steeper roads. It was infuriating how she kept dancing around this idea of a danger or a threat, not giving even the slightest clue as to what it might be. “Things that are dangerous for you to know. There are contingencies, there always have been. I will never abandon him, or you.”

“Oh really so what do you call the last eight years?”

“A necessity,” Loki pulled the car over on the shoulder of the highway, and pulled a knife from the holster in his sleeve. “Come on, get out. We need to grab your things.” 

Stiles grunted and just unsnapped his seatbelt. He had control over his body once more but this far from Beacon Hills there was no cell reception, and his jeep was back in the garage where they’d picked up this car. And while he could in theory run away, he wouldn’t get far before his body was under his Alien Mother’s control again. “Seriously? This is my life now?” The boy grumbled as he slid out of the passenger’s side seat.

Stiles noticed his mother crouched by a tire jabbing it multiple times with the knife, it hissed and creaked as the air escaped. Once it started to sag the man moved to the next tire and repeated the process. 

Well there went the ‘maybe I could double back and hijack the truck’ idea Stiles didn’t even know he’d been considering. The teenager rolled his shoulders back and went to collect the bags from the trunk. Whatever was going on, it seemed like he was going to be kept alive and whole. “So where are we going now that you’ve pretty much killed the car?”

“Hiking. Six miles north.” Loki stood up and dusted off his hands before grabbing the bags from Stiles and hefting them up onto his shoulder as if they weighed nothing. “Remember when you were seven and kept asking me for an ATV?” 

Stiles nods, because he actually does remember that. That was right up there with the puppy on the list of gifts he asked for every year but never got. 

“I got you one after all. It’s six miles north, now walk.” 

“We changed cars, now we’re hiking. Are you running from someone?” Stiles questioned as he stumbled forward. He would have darted away but if there was one thing he learned over the years it was that running alone in the woods was asking for trouble (usually of the supernatural variety). He waited for a few minutes before the the dismissal of his question started to bother him. “You know it would be pretty great if you answered me. I mean you took me out of school, ditched my car in a high theft area and then kidnapped me to make me hike through a forest in the middle of the night, I think that deserves some answers don’t you?”

“This would only be kidnapping if I wasn’t your parent with equal custody rights and had the permission of your father. Your being unwilling doesn’t have much to do with it at this point. You’re a child by law.” 

“What bullshit.” Stiles slowed down only to be prodded forward with a shove to the small of his back . Apparently stalling wasn’t going to be easy.

“We were supposed to meet your father. I am unsure if we will be able to, or if he will join us later.”

“Are you some kind of criminal, is that why we’re doing all of this?” Stiles dug his heels in and turned to his mother. His face in a frown and his arms crossed against his chest.

“Some places would consider me such, but that is not why we are leaving.” Loki’s jaw clenched as he growled the words out eyeing the woods around them, “We don’t have time for this. Walk or else I will carry you.”

“Oh yeah right,” Stiles rolled his eyes and kept the same pace, “Threats only work if you’re actually able to carry them out.”

Loki looked pointedly at his son, placed a hand on the nearest decently sized tree and shoved. The tree groaned and bowled over its roots suddenly visible and above the ground. “Don’t tempt me. Now let’s go.” 

“How is this my life?” Stiles muttered. “Seriously, would it really hurt for you to just tell me why—”

“Because I need you to be safe. My children are not well thought of in the halls of Asgard. They’ve been enslaved, hunted, imprisoned and banished. Your brothers and sister were all subjects to Odin Allfather’s ire. Sleipnir has been broken to harness and pressed into service as his mount, He cast Jörmungandr into the sea, Fenris is chained and held in the Cotahuasi Canyon. Hel was banished to Helheimr. Nari and Vali are on the run with Sigyn now, but I do not know how long it will take them to reach the safe house, or if they have out run Odin’s army.”

“You clearly need to try harder to come up with a plausible lie. I know these stories. You told them to me when I was a kid. Norse myths.”

“Humans think many things are myths, even the things that are right in front of their noses. Or are sitting beside them in economics class.” 

Stiles was drawn up short and gaped for a moment. “Th-that’s different.”

“No, it really isn’t. Werewolves are descended from Fenris. In essence they are your nieces and nephews, several times removed. Look at me child, tell me what you see.” Loki looked back and let his appearance flicker to the in between state that he refused to think of as his natural appearance; The sapphire blue skin, glowing red eyes ad inky purple hair and overly sharp diamond teeth.

“You’re blue…?” 

“I am Jotun, a Frost-Giant. I am not of this world, and because it is my blood that flows through your veins you are likely to be hunted. Now, walk.” Tired of the constant stop-start, Loki reached back and grabbed Stiles’ wrist much like he’d done years ago and walked a head at a brisk pace, pulling stiles behind him and forcing the boy to keep up the pace.

“You know I’m surprised you aren’t green.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

(-)

Isaac came to a stop as he got closer to the large shape of a vehicle in the distance. If the thing had people in it he’d have to appear as normal as possible. Well as he possibly could for a teenager out in the middle of nowhere with his schoolbag on his back. So he slowed down, forced the wolf back and trotted cautiously up to the truck. It was empty but it reeked of emotion, fear, frustration and panic. The only notable things about the truck were the slashed tires and a cracked dashboard.

Isaac had Derek on the line with in moments. “There’s a Jeep Liberty with slashed tires along the southwest road around the preserve. The plates from Ohio, and the cab reeks. Fear and frustration, two people.” 

“Is that Stiles’ scent?”

“I don’t know. I think… Maybe. I don’t know his scent that well. I need you or Scott to be sure but I’ll follow the smell alright?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’m on my way over, I’ll grab Scott.” Derek puffed, the snapping of branches and the rhythm of his gait were audible over the phone “Isaac, don’t engage with what ever it is unless you absolutely have to. ”

“Alright.” Isaac hung up and pocketed his phone before taking a deep sniff, locking on the scents and following them into the preserve. This wasn’t anything new, but at least it wasn’t a Kanima.

(-)

Stiles didn’t want to be here, standing in the woods after sun down with out his bat or a werewolf to his name —but he had to admit that Yamaha Raptor was pretty fucking delicious. Going off road with that baby would be glorious.

“You don’t make this any harder than it needs to be and I’ll even let you drive.” Loki threw out the bribe as he strapped the bags down to the atv.

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t have to. Just drive north, there’s a path.”

“No. I played along for long enough,” Stiles shifted he weighed back on his heels. Loki was by the ATV and the bags were keeping him occupied for the moment, it was get answers or get running time. “Where are you taking me?”

“LAX, from there New Mexico. From New Mexico through the portal to Vanaheim.”

That wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be, but quite naturally, Stiles still balked at the idea of leaving the planet. “Isn’t there some kind of protocol or multi dimensional customs we have to go through for that? I mean…”

“No. Not every world is obsessed with red tape as midgard. There are protocol for entering certain kingdoms, yes but we needn’t worry about that now.”

Loki hauled himself up onto one of the vehicles when four thunderous bellows echoed through the trees. The roars were not directly native to midguard, Loki knew that. Such beasts as these were the hybrid children of enchanted wolves and mortal men, Fenrir’s get and descendants.

“It looks like Scott’s come to say his goodbyes, or be a nuisance…” Loki gently waved his hand through the air in a brief gesture and thick glimmering smoke appeared twisting and winding through the air.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Stiles grabbed at Loki’s arm pulling the limb down in the hopes that it would make the magic stop. When the mist grew thicker Stiles turned towards the woods, “You can’t hurt them. You can’t—” Stiles’ words were cut off by the yelp of surprise he let out when the arm he had in his hands suddenly wrapped around his waist and hoisted him bodily into the air and pinned him in place at Loki’s side.

“I’ve given you enough warnings. We are leaving.” On the tail of Loki’s words two genuine howls, the calls of actual wolves rang through the forest. Stiles looked around not sure where they were coming from until he saw the twisting shimmering mist begin to solidify.

The ATV’s motor rumbled to life and Stiles squirmed against the all too familiar hold of his Mother’s strong arm. The ATV was moving and gathering speed but he knew how to tuck and roll. The bellowing howls of his pack echoed through the forest and he knew they were catching up. Stiles frowned for a moment clearly they had his scent, but there had to be some way to help them move faster or circle ahead, something. So he cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted into the trees. “Guys, you’re really sucking at this whole rescue thing right now! I should have been home like an hour ago!”

Stiles watches the trees pass by for a moment then he sees Isaac dart out of them, fangs and claws flashing and eyes blue and bright before a huge white blur takes him down with a bark. Even as Stiles cranes his head back the ATV keeps moving ahead and he can see the massive white wolf bigger than any animal he’s ever seen snarling at the werewolves as it holds Isaac under it’s paws.

“If you’re friends are smart they’ll give up. They can not any match Hati.”

Stiles feels the ground tremble as he looks back at his mother. Loki’s jaw is set in a determined line, and past the image of his mother Stiles can see a shimmering black blur trotting besides their speeding ATV. This had to be Skoll.

Hati’s howl echoed through the air once more and suddenly Stiles’ nerves were set on edge. Was that a howl of warning? Was it a cry for help? Was it a war call? Or a victory celebration. As much time as Stiles spent around werewolves he didn’t know a damn thing about actual wolves and the reason they howled. Whatever the call was it sent Skoll charging ahead.

Out of nowhere a rumble of thunder echoed through the air drawing a curse from, “Fuck, we took too long.”

“This is an ATV, a little mud wont do much, but if you want to stop I’m in full support of this plan.”

“Thunder isn’t always accompanied by rain—” 

As sudden as the thunder there is a bright lights on the ATV tracking it through the wooded road as a helicopter steadily works to close the distance between the it and the ATV. 

“This is your only warning, Loki! Stop the vehicle!” a thunderous voice demanded over the PA of the helicopter. 

Stiles watched in horror as Skoll leapt from where ever he had hidden— and really, how the hell a beast that size could hide he didn’t even know— and snatched the helicopter out of the air with all the ease of a retriever playing fetch. The tail of the helicopter fell away with a high pitch creak and crashed into the ground.

“What the hell!? Call off Clifford! He’s killing people.”

“He’s not red and they’re not that east to kill, as much as I may wish…”

As if summoned by Loki’s words, the Helicopter explodes in Skoll’s mouth, turning the wolf back into mist and there from the flames emerge three figures. One large and glowing, swinging a hammer like a lasso and managing to stay aloft. Stiles recognizes the second silhouette as Iron man, everyone knew exactly what Tony Stark’s Automatic Amour looked like and Iron man was gripping the fore arm of another man who was aiming something at the ATV even while he was dangling precariously from a hundred and fifty feet in the air.

“The Avengers! You got Avengers chasing you!?” Stiles slunk down into his seat, not wishing to be hit by any stay lightening or arrows or anything else the avengers were known to throw at people who tried escaping them. “What the hell did you do?”

“Nothing yet.” Loki snarled through his teeth as he struggled to drive avoid the lightening strikes that were hitting the ground progressively closer to the ATV than he was comfortable with. “But they’re probably still holding a grudge about Manhattan.”

Stiles felt his blood run cold, and his heart stop. The sensation didn’t last long because the wheels of the ATV had been blown off and Stiles tumbled from the vehicle with Loki still holding on to him guarding him from the worst of the fall and subsequent explosion as a bolt of lightening hit the metal carriage.

“Brother— it is time for this ridiculous game of chase to end.” Thor’s voice was strong and thunderous as he touched down on the ground. 

Stiles grunted as he tried to sit up. It didn’t work as he planned and all he could do was pant as he propped himself up on all fours and tried to catch his breath. 

“This is no game Thor. It never was.” Loki glowered at the man and didn’t take his eyes off of him for even a moment while he reached behind himself and until he felt Stiles’ arm under his fingers and gripped the boy tightly. 

“Manhattan?” Stiles croaked, his eyes wide and pulse thudding in his ears as he put it all together, seeing the connection. “You mean, the invasion?”

“Now is not the time, Val.” Loki wanted to look back at his son and explain, to make the boy understand exactly why it was so important that the invasion had been successful but with Thor here. Perfect golden child Thor who would only report back to Odin All-Father, it was not the proper time.

“That was you in Manhattan? All those people died because of you? What? Why?” Stiles tried to pull his arm away. His face grew pale and tinged with green, his pulse thundered in his ears and his chest ached with the breaths it couldn’t seem to hold. “Get away from me! ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok this chapter has been completed. Chapter 7, the final chapter before the epilogue is about 1/3rd of the way written so hopefully it won't take 5 months to get it out.  
> Thank you for your patience and kind words. <3
> 
> Also, I'm in need of a SPaG Beta reader, to go over the previous chapters and the parts that I've already started writing of chapter 7. please let me know if you're interested in a comment and I will reply ith my email.


	7. The first half of ch7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this is only the first half of this chapter. I promised something by the end of the year and here it is. hopefully in a few days i can put up the other half. again, i'm lacking a beta reader so there will be errors but i'm trying to catch everything i can with a proof reading on my own. 
> 
> If anyone else wants to volunteer to be my SPaG beta it will be greatly appreciated.

**Part 7:**

 

Loki held on to his son firmly, refusing to let him go. If only he’s come sooner this nightmare may have been avoided. Tapping into his Jotun strength he held Stiles in place despite the boy’s flailing, “Listen to me, it was a necessary evil. There were many deaths. Yes, that is true. But they had been necessary every single one. If I was to take this planet as my own I needed to make a display of power, and lead Thanos into this realm.”

“You’ve got to be fucking joking!” Stiles snarled, not caring at all who was there and listening “Are you a comic book villain! Seriously? World domination? Why would you want this world? This world is fucked up as it is.” 

Loki’s face grew tight and pinched as he tried to explain in as vague terms as possible, and tried to keep a steady eye on Thor and the other two avengers who had since surrounded them while they were prone. It wasn’t an ideal situation, it wasn’t an ideal world but it was what he had to work with. And work with it he had tried. “Yes. Yes, it’s my fault, and yes this world is imperfect. There is very little in any world that is perfect—”

“People are dead! And it’s your fault!” Stiles shrilled, eyes wide and wild, “I can’t even… Do you even have any idea?”

“I have seen many, many worlds in my eons.” Loki lowered his voice, to the pitch the comforting pitch that he often used in the nurseries of his children in an attempt to calm his son and convince him to cooperate, Thor and the mortals would not be easy to defeat, but he didn’t need to defeat them only escape. “Trust me—”

“You’re a murderer! Not to mention a freaking stranger! What do you mean trust you?”

Loki let go of Stiles as if he’d been burned, no longer worried or aware of the slowly surrounding avengers. His face twisted up into something cruel and ugly as he looked upon his son, and then past him to where Thor stood, hammer at the ready. “The All-Father is the murderer! Nari and Vali are running for their lives, dodging soldiers that have orders of disembowel them on sight. Sleipnir, Jormungandr and Fenris, are all imprisoned one way or another. Hel is far beyond my reach.” 

“Brother, now is not the time to air grievances of the familial kind.” Thor called out approaching as close as he dared. “Come, allow me to take you back home and we can avoid any more blood shed.” 

“If not now, when? Thor, they are my children!” Loki’s eyes fixed on his youngest child, determined and full of sorrow. “I wage war for them, not a fucking crown. Sleipnir, Jormangandr, Fenris, Hel, Nari, Vali and Val. A world where my children can live freely and without the fear of a death sentence hanging over their heads is worth anything.” Loki snarled much like the wolves that were fighting in the woods at his back. The God seemed to swell in size the air around him crackled with power and there was a cold breeze that swept through the clearing. “Odin’s eye has a way of finding my children. Somehow they always fall under his gaze.”

Thor looked genuinely pained as he moved forward, lowering Mjölnir a fraction.

Stiles shifted a bit, pulling him self into a low crouch. This wasn’t a situation he wanted to be anywhere near. As he’d been shown time and time again he was soft and fleshy and al too human— even though he as apparently a demi-god, and well fuck wasn’t that just a kicker! How is it that even with the blood of Gods running through his veins he’s still simply to human to go to bat with the supernatural baddie of his everyday life?

“Yo Point Break, now’s not the time to get sentimental.” Iron man slowly made his way to the ground, the faceplate of the suit flipped up to show Tony Stark’s impressive scowl, “He’s got a hostage. You okay, hostage kid?” 

Stiles, turned left and then right looking for who Iron Man, might be talking to, but when he found no one around him he pointed dumbly at his face. “Me?”

“Yeah you. See any other hostages around here?”

“Er… Yeah.” Stiles’ muttered pointing past Stark towards the four by four SUV that had pulled up, and climbed to his feet readying himself for action. 

“What? Bullshit— Oh Goddamn it Cap!” Stark groused as he watched Captain America and the Black Widow exit the vehicle with guns pointed at a tall graying man who was apparently the local Sheriff. “Who the hell his this? We just siad to _talk_ to the local L.E.O.s not drag them into this.”

(-)

Loki longed to look behind him to find out what was going on but he knew better than to take his attention away from Thor. Only Thor and the Green Man-Beast could do him any damage. Keeping his brother in his sights was the only way to go.

“Then why not free them when father had fallen into the Odin-sleep?”

“Just as I told you, then Thor ‘the first act of a new king is not to undo the act of the last’. I know my obligations as a crown prince and I could not them release Fenris, and fish Jor out of the sea!” Loki’s eyes lit with rage as his shout carried across the clearing drawing all attention, “I would love to have but I was only a regent— acting king until The All-Father was well once again and would have had them imprisoned once again at best. At worst he would have taken it as a slight and had ever single one of us pinned and slaughtered, you idealistic moron!

When I found out that I never had the chance to inherit rule I vowed that I would take what ever steps were necessary. Odin had sworn not to meddle in the affairs of Midguard—”

“Father made promises for himself, not for me.” 

“And in there lies our problem. You wish to take Midgard under your wing and in doing so you’re condemning my last child, my youngest and only free child to the eye of Odin.”

(-)

“Kid, that bag o’ cats is your dad?”

“No...?” Well, yeah, if he was going with the general principal of parentage, but this was almost as bad as having your mom show up at your school with a house coat and rollers in her hair so no, Stiles was not going to claim that kind of crazy at the moment.

"No... ? It's rude to answer a question with a question. Didn't anyone every tell you that?" 

Stiles eyed Loki as Stark came closer. Usually he could wing his way through a sticky situation, it was how he had stayed along so long with the amount of supernatural creatures in his life- but here, in this moment he didn't know what to do. Which side was the right one? 

There was an Avenger holding a gun to his father's head and another trying to coax him away from the one and only God of Chaos and Destroyer of Manhattan. Which side was the side that ended with him and his dad alive?

"Stiles!"

Broken out of his revere Stiles turned his head towards who ever called his name. And gave Issac and Scott a wan smile- just his fucking luck the werewolves catch up now.

"Hey Scotty, Issac..." Stile grumbled and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes wondering what the ever loving fuck possessed him to go looking for a a corpse in the wood. His life was so unbearably stupid sometimes.

"What the fuck is that! Hawkeye, shoot it!"

“Don’t shoot them!” Stiles shouted, hoping that his current status of hostage was enough to buy him some kind of authority. “Don’t, don’t do that!”

(-)

Loki, unable to keep his attention from the commotion, flickered up another copy of himself and turned his back on Thor to take what was happening at his back. Loki’s eyes surveyed the area and his face became as placid and smooth when he saw his husband held at gunpoint.

“Adding more red to your ledger I see Miss Romanoff.” 

“That all depends on you,”

Loki grinned widely and stepped forward. With every step he left behind a copy of himself coming closer to the Widow and her hostage until she cocked the hammer of the gun back. Loki stopped moving, three feet out of direct range. “I think you need to find a new variable.”

“Oh we’ve got one. Take a look,” Natasha’s hair bobbed neatly at her shoulders as she nodded in the direction Loki had just come from. The Loki in front of her didn’t turn but one of the copies did and she knew the exact moment that he had spotted the red dot on his son’s forehead.

Loki went from that eerily placid calm to seething rage with in moments.

“You move— any of you move— and that boy gets a bullet to the head. And yeah, you can move fast but can you move that fast? And do you really want to test your speed right now?”

“You act like a spider, when really you’re just a fucking worm.” Loki growled, his pale peach skin fazing out and giving way to the bright cerulean blue of his race. “When will you learn your fucking place? Do you think it’s just that easy? A knock in the head and the magic’s all gone?” The red dot on his boy’s forehead wavered before skittering across the ground and landing right in the pupil of the red head’s eye. “Granted, I may not have constant control over him anymore but how long do you think it will tae such an accomplished marksman to pull a trigger?”

“About as long as it will take me.”

One of the many Loki’s on the battlefield turned towards the man with the star on his chest and target for a shield. Roger’s face was grim as he held his own gun against the back of the sheriff’s head.

“Ah, Rogers…" "Well this is a predicament isn’t it.”

“A bit of one yes.” Loki said, once more in that scarily calm place, “Call off your worm and I’ll let your birdy go.”

“How about you get the hell off our planet and I don’t shoot your husband in the head?” 

“You’d kill a man in front of his only child? You’re rather cruel, Rogers. I find myself intrigued.” Loki pressed forward in one huge leap and snatched for the gun with a cold blue hand.

Captain America reeled back as fast as he could and blocked the icy blow of Loki’s frigid hand. With one smooth and fluid move the Captain flung his shield off of his back into the clearing slicing through all of the clones, dispersing them.

(-)

Stiles waited out the tense moment until he saw an opening, “Scott! My dad!”

Stiles nearly sagged back to the ground in relief when Scott darted through the clearing and pulled his father to safety via supernatural strength and speed.

Stiles reached out his arm as he saw Isaac coming his way only to be yanked backwards into the thick and almost obscenely muscled arms of the God of Thunder. 

“Please forgive me, but your presence is required if I’m to discover what my brother is up to this time.” Thor pulled Stiles tightly against his chest with one while he whirled his hammer slowly with the other. The whirring hammer crackled and spat electricity keeping the werewolf at bay. “I’ve only ever met one of my brother’s many children. What is your name child?”

“I’m not a child.” Stiles heard him self say before he could even stop and consider how childish that sounded. “I’m sure you’ve heard them shouting it all over the place, yeah?”

“That is not your name, they call you that but I am most sure that is not what Loki named you. He’s got an air for the most apt, and horrid names.”

“Horrid is right, which is why my name is Stiles.” 

“Don’t fret so, the names of as guardian youths are hideous to warn off monsters and thieves of children. When the child is deemed old enough to take care of itself on the battlefield then they are told their actual noble name.”

“No. I’m pretty sure they’re both equally horrid, though I’m glad that I don’t get called a Bilgesnipe anymore—not that I’ve ever actually seen one, but they don’t sound pleasant.”

“They were always his favorite you know,” Stiles could hear the smile in his captor’s voice, “but I’ve always found them quite grotesque. They’re green Scaly with massive horns…. Rather repulsive. But they trample everything in their path and cause a great destruction and chaos. All things my brother adores.”

\---  
Ok so this is only the first half of this chapter. I promised something by the end of the year and here it is. hopefully in a few days i can put up the other half. again, i'm lacking a beta reader so there will be errors but i'm trying to catch everything i can with a proof reading on my own.

If anyone else wants to volunteer to be my SPaG beta it will be greatly appreciated.


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